50 Things to Say
by tromana
Summary: Jane/Lisbon oneshot collection in response to the Fantasy Script's '50 Phrases' challenge. LAST: Limited: She's his anchor, his life raft. She keeps him floating when he would otherwise drown.
1. Marry me

**A/N:** 50 Things to Say is my new oneshot collection. It's a challenge response to the Fantasy Script's 50 phrases challenge (the link to the website is in my profile if you're interested in having a look). Some of them will also draw on other prompts as well, which I will identify at the beginning of the oneshot.

I won't neglect Scarlet Shorts, I promise. I'm hoping that the '50 Things to Say' oneshots will be longer than the ones I generally write for that.

x tromana

**Title:** Moving On  
**Author:** tromana  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon  
**Summary:** Jane's psyche is more intelligent than he is.  
**Disclaimer:** Me? Own The Mentalist. Nope, just a fellow fan.  
**Notes:** jello-forever August '09 challenge (again!): Mistakes. Thanks to **WildDaisies10** for the beta job as I really wasn't sure of this oneshot.  
**Challenge Prompt:** Marry me?

**Moving On**

A ghost of a smile traces across his lips. They've been running down the beach and he can't help but break out into a beam at the sight of her long, blonde hair caught on the breeze. She's always been faster than him, so he is panting as he finally catches up. Once he's caught his breath, he gently takes hold of her face and runs a finger down her cheek. The sigh he's treated to in response is just delightful and his fingers soon become entwined in her beautiful locks as they kiss whilst the sun is setting.

Jane likes memories like this. They're scant. He's normally treated with sights of her butchered body, curled up closely to that of their precious daughter. But today, his mind had focussed on that day and he doesn't know why. He's not complaining though, of course. Being treated with visions of the two of them when they were young, carefree and happy is a lot more pleasant than the alternative.

They break apart and when he opens his eyes, it isn't his wife smiling back at him, it's his _boss_. He frowns as she links arms with him and they carry on walking down the beach, their feet slapping against the wet sand. She whispers his name and he answers, but she doesn't appear to have heard him.

"I'm here, where else would I be?"

He feels a sharp kick in his side and he's awake. Lisbon is looking down at him, with a mixture of confusion and annoyance written over her features. Despite having been so abruptly woken up, it's enough to make Jane grin. After all, only she can get away with such a mix and still look so damn cute whilst she's at it. Besides, he's not sure if he should be grateful or not. He couldn't be entirely sure if he liked the direction that dream was going in, but it wasn't as if it had been unpleasant. He knew what had happened later on that night. It could have made things… embarrassing.

Jane can't seem to get to sleep at all again for the next week, though not for lack of trying. He can see the pity and worry written across Lisbon's features which only makes him feel worse. Contrary to popular opinion, he doesn't like making her mad for no apparent reason. Sure, he likes winding her up so that he is treated to that 'I'm pissed off and I'm not afraid to show it' look, but that was just in jest, even if she didn't always realise it.

He reckons that the exacerbated lack of sleep might be something to do with the last case they had worked on; he often sleeps even less when it involves children. Those ones always seemed to have a habit of triggering even more memories of the bloodshed. It doesn't help that Lisbon always manages to go into her overprotective mode without fail. Jane is fairly certain she doesn't realise it, but being secure in that knowledge isn't enough to stop him from finding it that little bit irksome. The office is virtually empty now, and he swears he can hear her pen scratching away at the last few pieces of paperwork even though he is on the opposite side of the bullpen and there is a closed door between them. The thought of her being close is reassuring, though. After the week they've had, the last thing he expects is sleep so it's comforting to know someone who cares is close by.

They're laying on the beach now, and he is uncharacteristically nervous. Is he about to pull the biggest mistake of his life by completely misjudging the timing? The willowy blonde curled in the crook of his arm simply sighs contentedly. He swallows and she props herself up, looking terribly concerned.

"Marry me," she murmurs.

What? He's the one who is meant to ask that question. He fumbles into the pocket of his jacket that they have been happily reclining on and finds what he is looking for. She gasps in sheer delight and wipes away a tear as the little jewellery box is opened to reveal a simple, yet beautiful engagement ring. Jane slips it carefully on her ring finger and she spends a second simply admiring it.

"Only if you'll marry me," he whispers in return.

She leans back down and he is quite happy to melt into another kiss from those lips that are coated in a rather delicious cherry gloss which just makes them all the more perfect. He feels like it is safe to assume that the answer to his question is a very definite affirmative. Though he didn't think it possible, his smile broadens as she turns her attention to his jaw line, decorating it with feather light kisses. When he opens his eyes, he sees a short, dark bob rather than long, golden curls and Teresa Lisbon looks happier than he's ever seen her before. Ever.

The footsteps are enough to wake him up. When he actually opens his eyes, rather than simply opening them in the dream-state, he finds that Lisbon is looking down at him rather quizzically. And unusually, it's him with the blush creeping unashamedly to his cheeks. Damn it, it's meant to be her face that reddens at the drop of a hat, not his.

"Are you okay, Jane?" she queries.

"Uh, fine, Lisbon. Thanks for asking."

She nods in response, walks away and picks up her bag from the chair she had slung it on before she had walked over to him. Jane scrambles to his feet and rushes to catch up with her before she makes it to the elevator. His mind is still scrambled but for some reason he just has an urgent need to spend more time with her. Later on, he thinks, he'll blame it on the dreams, though they are very quickly becoming just a distant memory. Still, they're what is making him think, feel like this. It certainly isn't logical behaviour, not for him, after all.

"Would you do me the honour of coming out to dinner with me?"

"Jane," she sighs, looking at him as if he has gone slightly mad. He looks at her pleadingly, knowing full well that the puppy dog eyes worked nine times out of ten on her.

"Please?" he whispers, taking hold of her hand which she promptly snatches back.

"Fine."

He beams as the elevator arrives on the third floor. He has a feeling, if she is willing of course, that he definitely won't be responsible for his actions later tonight.

end


	2. Who are you?

**Title:** Underestimation  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon, Team  
**Disclaimer: **If I owned it, I wouldn't be writing fanfic for it.  
**Prompts:** "Who are you?" and an image prompt from PhoenixWytch.

**Underestimation**

When the memo reached Patrick Jane, not only did he crack a smile but he burst into laughter. Van Pelt glared at him, Cho rolled his eyes and Rigsby started joining in, though he had no idea what was just so funny. The furore was enough to get Lisbon running from the peace of her office to see exactly what the fire was. Van Pelt looked rather relieved that their boss had stormed into the bullpen to take control of the situation whilst Cho simply continued poring over his sudoku with a furrowed brow.

"Jane?" she kept her voice low, and almost dangerous. "What's going on?"

"Why do you always blame me?" he spluttered indignantly.

"Because usually, it is your fault."

"I don't even know why we're laughing, boss," Rigsby mouthed, still unable to keep a straight face.

Lisbon rolled her eyes whilst Rigsby could feel tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. He couldn't help it that Jane's laughter had been so contagious, even if after five minutes of giggling, he still had no clue whatsoever what the explosion of laughter had been about. However, being faced with a short, angry woman who also happened to be his rather fierce boss, things did begin to feel rather more serious and he soon stopped.

"My dear Lisbon," Jane started, "it's actually your fault."

"My fault?" she echoed incredulously.

"Your fault," he nodded.

"How so?"

He held up the memo which Minelli had sent around earlier in the week that had been kindly left on his couch by Van Pelt. It had stated that Friday was to be a dressing down day, to raise money for charity. Naturally, they had to bring a change of clothing just in case they ended up having to go out in the field, but that was not the point. It was meant to be fun, to allow them all to relax a little bit. The moment Lisbon had read it, she knew that Jane would relish the opportunity at being able to analyse them all based on their choice of 'downtime' clothing.

"What has Minelli's attempts at raising money for charity got to do with me?"

Van Pelt and Rigsby watched as Jane stood to be able to stare directly into her eyes. Though she had to take a step back, Lisbon didn't avoid his steely gaze and merely continued to look at him in a quizzical manner. Rigsby always enjoyed watching face-offs between Lisbon and Jane, provided they weren't yelling each other. It was often hard to judge who would come out on top and that was what made it fun. Jane had an unfair advantage, what with his ability to 'read' people but Lisbon did have an uncanny ability to knock him off guard from time to time. If he'd had the time (and privacy) to ask, he would have immediately set up a bet with Cho. He had a feeling that Lisbon was going to knock Jane off his perch this time around.

"You won't join in," Jane eventually spat out.

"Won't I?"

"No."

"And how did you come to that conclusion?"

"Because your clothes aren't just something to wear nor simply a uniform," he announced. "They protect you and throw up yet another barrier between you and the rest of the world. They stop you from getting hurt."

"Oh really?"

"Yes really."

Lisbon raised an eyebrow, spun on her heels and left her team to it. She didn't really have time to be discussing clothing with Jane, nor anyone else. Besides, she now knew exactly what she was going to wear tomorrow. She'd show him.

"I bet you ten dollars that she doesn't join in," Jane murmured to Rigsby.

"You're on," Rigsby replied. A bet with Jane himself would do. He still reckoned Lisbon would pull this one out of the bag for him. That look on her face was rather determined, after all. Anyway, Jane couldn't absolutely always be right, could he?

The item of clothing in question, in her opinion, was actually quite beautiful and she thought she looked nice in it. She wasn't usually one for dresses, but when she had walked past the store window and saw it on the mannequin, she just knew she had to try it on. And one thing led to another, and within the hour Lisbon had spent almost a month's pay packet on a dress and was wearing a rather sloppy grin on her face. She hadn't regretted it for a second either. Well, maybe a little while because it was quite expensive and a little bit impractical, but still.

Only problem was that she hadn't had an excuse to wear it… until now.

Lisbon didn't usually spend that much time worrying about her appearance, but by the morning, she was paranoid. She had treated herself to a long soak in a bubble bath the night before and ensured she shaved and moisturised. She had even taken the time to paint her toenails in front of the TV, a frivolous activity, but if she was going to prove Jane wrong, she was going to do it properly. It took her at least half an hour to dig out a pair of her mother's earrings that she knew would match the dress as well.

She used her normal shoes to drive to work as her high heels were entirely impractical for that. Lisbon was beginning to feel rather self-conscious and overdressed; she knew that pretty much everyone else would be dressing down rather than dressing up. Jane was right in the fact that she did feel rather exposed and half of her was desperate to just turn back home and return to the relative safety of her pants and shirt. But her stubborn streak won out as she pulled into the CBI parking lot and she parked. Whilst she changed over her shoes, she noticed Jane's Citroen pull in and she silently cursed him and Minelli for the whole situation and even more so when Jane appeared to be dressed as he usually did.

Jane grinned and waved at Lisbon's SUV, knowing full well that she had just frozen like a deer in the headlights in the front seat. She swallowed hard when she caught his gaze, realising that she had little choice but to face him now, because Jane being Jane wouldn't be going anywhere until she was. Lisbon inwardly cursed as her hand shook slightly as she grabbed hold of the door handle. This was ridiculous, she was a grown woman, and not only that but she had gone through with this charade just to attempt to embarrass Jane. And knowing him, he probably wouldn't even bat an eyelid.

As she slipped carefully out of the SUV, Jane's jaw dropped. Her dress was various shades of blues and purples and she barely noticed the fact that it was getting caught in the breeze. He found himself feeling rather uncomfortable with the whole situation as she crossed the parking lot, beaming, though she had little reason to as she was only arriving at work. Jane knew it was the affect of the dress; putting that much effort into one's appearance always made women feel more euphoric. Some men too, for that matter.

"Hi, Jane." He remained silent, speechless. "Jane?"

He shook his head to regain his senses. "Who are you and what have you done with my Lisbon?" he muttered.

She grinned and thumped his arm affectionately before strolling into the CBI headquarters as Rigsby approached Jane. He too looked far more relaxed than he would be in his usual work attire. Jane's face fell as he remembered a certain bet, which explained the triumphant look on his co-worker's face.

"Looks like you owe me ten bucks," Rigsby whispered as he followed his boss into the workplace.

It was then when Jane found he actually didn't care. Seeing Lisbon's expression was payment enough. He then wondered how she'd react if he actually said just how good he thought she looked…

end


	3. You lied

**A/N: **This ficlet has caused me all manners of problems. I'm satisfied with it, but not happy. Meh, oh well. x tromana

**Title:** Visitation Rights  
**Author:** tromana  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon  
**Summary:** Lisbon's been caught out lying again.  
**Disclaimer:** I keep telling myself that it's best that I don't own it, but it doesn't stop me wishing.  
**Notes:** 50 Phrases: You lied.

**Visitation Rights**

They sat together in the white room with barred windows. She was clad in her usual work attire and him in a jumpsuit. They didn't touch and neither spoke; there was nothing left to say anymore and she was past understanding now, past caring. Lisbon glanced at him with a heavy sigh before returning her attentions to her hands, picking haphazardly at some dirt that had got caught underneath a fingernail. How could he have turned out like this? She'd seen all the signs and fought desperately against them. He'd rebelled, more than that really, he'd killed a man and landed himself in jail. And whilst he didn't particularly care, she did. She blamed herself for what had happened and for what he'd done.

She stood and allowed her fingers to trace across his knuckles before turning to the door. Whenever she visited, she found she couldn't stay long. This place was so oppressive; Lisbon didn't know how he could stand it. There was a mournful look in his eyes as she headed towards the door.

"I don't know when I'll be back," she explained. "Work is always busy."

He nodded, understanding and didn't even bother to fight for her. The day Lisbon and her team had had to arrest him had destroyed any semblance of trust and respect that they had ever had between them. She only continued to visit out of habit and in the vain hope that she would someday understand how he could betray her like that. How he could kill a man when she had dedicated her life to catching murderers.

When Lisbon was outside the prison complex, sitting in her SUV with her fingers gripping the wheel, she finally let the tears cascade. It was killing her, seeing him like that. She didn't know if she would be capable of visiting him again, especially with him showing little to no remorse. He was helping no one being like that and all she wanted to do was understand. Once she finally managed to calm herself down, she steeled herself for the drive back home.

***

The drive helped to focus her mind and already she was looking forward to returning to work in the morning. There was a reason why she virtually never bothered to take vacation and not just because she'd have nothing to do with it in the first place. The last time she had had a day off, it was because Minelli forcibly made her because she had run herself down by working whilst ill. When she arrived at her apartment complex mid-afternoon, she was only slightly surprised to see Patrick Jane sitting on a bench enthralling a couple of the local kids with his magic tricks. After shooing them away, he approached Lisbon's SUV with a sunny smile as she slipped out of the driver's seat and locked the car door.

"What are you doing here?"

"They got bored of me."

Lisbon smirked. "That figures."

She walked towards her apartment, ignoring him, though he immediately followed her without question, or request. It looked as though it was going to be a nice evening and Lisbon briefly wished that Jane hadn't decided to come bug her after the rest of the team had grown fed up with him. As they traipsed up a staircase, she tried to dismiss the thought but still couldn't quite work out why he had come to see her of all things. Despite that, Lisbon still wasn't that surprised that he had appeared to just invite himself around without actually asking. It was just a Jane thing to do.

"So, what are we doing?"

"_I'm_ going to do some shopping, then walk the dog," she replied. "Why?"

"Meh, that's boring."

"And what would you suggest?"

Lisbon let them both in and they were greeted by a golden retriever barking excitedly, thoroughly pleased that her mistress had come home early and pleased with the prospect of a new friend. Affectionately, she stroked the animal behind the ears and headed towards the kitchen, with Jane and Penny following eagerly.

"Oh I don't know. You said you hadn't seen any good movies lately."

"Jane, that was _months_ ago."

"And has the situation changed?"

"No, but that's not the point."

Eventually, they agreed that after they had walked Penny, that Lisbon would grudgingly allow Jane to take her out somewhere 'fun', provided that he brought her something to eat. So, when the dog had been happily exercised and trapped Jane in the kitchen, Lisbon snuck off to her bedroom for a change of clothes. Swiftly, she replaced her work wear with something slightly more relaxed, what she hoped was suitable for a night out with a friend; an event that was definitely not a date. She was raiding her makeup case when Jane appeared in the door frame, grinning.

"Does Penny ever stop eating?"

"Not really," she admitted. "You've been spoiling her, haven't you?"

"Well who could resist an animal with eyes like that?" Jane stated. "You look good, by the way."

"Thanks, I think," Lisbon replied. She could feel a familiar blush creeping onto her cheeks and cursed herself. "Where are we going?"

Jane took her by the arm wordlessly and she instinctively rolled her eyes. When it came to Jane, she felt like she was constantly doing so, to the extent that someone might as well just glue them up there. But then again, he was infuriating and enthusiastic and never took the time to answer her questions. They walked just a half hour away from her apartment and wound up at a bar. Lisbon had only been there a couple of times before, enough to know she liked it, but never frequently. She found she rarely had the time these days anyway, especially since taking on the senior agent job.

"Why here?"

"You wanted something eat and we can talk," Jane shrugged.

"We've been talking all afternoon."

Over the meal, they spoke of nothing much, just cases, when Rigsby would finally ask Van Pelt on a date, whether or not it would actually be worth going to the movies and the like. Lisbon was surprised at just how easy the conversation came with Jane; usually she was having to hold her tongue and make sure she didn't reveal too much. Of course, she was still taking care but she was actually getting to the stage where she was quietly pleased that Cho, probably, had sent him packing for the day.

"So, where did you actually go today?"

"My brother…"

"I know you saw your brother," Jane replied. "But you lied. Well, tried to anyway. Where is your brother? Why the secrecy? The others know, don't they?"

Jane genuinely looked hurt and Lisbon found she had to glance away. To distract herself, she ran a lazy finger across the rim of her wine glass as the waitress cleared away their plates and Jane settled the tab. It always amused Lisbon the way women would flirt with him, he'd play along for a while before knocking them back. Was that what he'd do with her one day? Grow bored of their games, set her straight and say there's nothing between them, breaking a heart that she had unwittingly given? Whatever it was they had, the fine line they danced on somewhere between friendship, love and companionship, she appreciated and didn't quite know what she'd do if it was gone.

"Cho and Rigsby know," she murmured. "We were already working together when we made the arrest. The only reason that we didn't go for the death sentence is because of me. They thought it'd break my heart if we did."

His fingers deftly wrapped around hers. "But it broke it anyway?"

Lisbon didn't even have to answer and he refused to let go of her hand. He walked her home wordlessly, while gently allowing a finger to rub across her knuckles and they soon found themselves on her doorstep again. Unsure what to do, Jane gently placed an arm around her shoulders, and bemused, Lisbon tentatively hugged him back. Whilst she was used to the odd gentle touch on the shoulder or the small of her back, being so forthright with physical gestures was unusual for them.

"Do you want to come in for a cup of tea?"

"I thought you'd never ask," he grinned. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she smiled.

Over the hot beverage, they fell back into their normal routine. A glance at the clock told Lisbon it was really too late for her to send him away for the night. When she was settled in bed and him on her couch, he found himself absorbed in thought. As a tear trickled down his cheek, he quickly came to the conclusion that she deserved someone so much better than him.

***

"Jane definitely went to Lisbon's when you got fed up with him," Rigsby announced to Cho and Van Pelt as they arrived together in the bullpen the next morning. "There's something happening between them."

"I don't think we should be discussing their personal lives," Van Pelt piped up. "Lisbon wouldn't…"

"Lisbon wouldn't what?"

Van Pelt jumped as her boss suddenly behind her and nearly threw her arms around the petite woman's shoulders, but stopped herself just in time. Instead, she took a step back and enthused about how good it was to have her back even though she had only taken one day off work. She'd been vague about the reasons why she was taking the time off and had only mumbled something about her brother being in the area. Van Pelt was particularly relieved to have her back; the last twenty-four hours had been a nightmare and the red haired rookie finally understood why Lisbon pretty much never took a day off unless she absolutely had to.

"I mean it, I wouldn't what?"

end


	4. Don't break her heart

**A/N:** Thank you ever so much for the kind reviews you've been leaving. It means a lot to me. Anyway, this prompt was supplied by dizzy - in - the - izzy, so thank you for that. The idea took hold pretty quickly but it took me a while to sit down and actually write it. And it's quite short for one of these, so I apologise on that front, too. I have 4 author's choices gaps left, so if anyone has any suggestions of phrases please feel free to let me know. If I receive more than 4 suggestions, I will try and write them all. They'll just become a oneshot or a Scarlet Shorts entry instead... Wow. Long A/N for me. Sorry. x tromana

**Title:** Inevitable Heartbreak  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon, Team  
**Summary: **When Cho joined the CBI, and first started working with Teresa Lisbon, he silently vowed to always look out for her, on more than just a professional basis.  
**Disclaimer: **Nope, I still don't own it.  
**Prompts:** 50 Phrases: Author's Choice: Don't break her heart.

**Inevitable Heartbreak**

Kimball Cho is more observant than people, well, Jane gives him credit for. It was him who noticed the way his newly promoted boss became flustered and blushed furiously when Patrick Jane made a suggestive comment on Jane's first day with the CBI. Naturally, since then, she has become better at covering her tracks and always ensuring she has some kind of witty retort. But, there was always that little something in her eyes each and every time it happened. Like she wasn't telling the full story. And if Cho could see it, he knew that Jane certainly could too.

When Cho joined the CBI, and first started working with Teresa Lisbon, he silently vowed to always look out for her, on more than just a professional basis. It wasn't that she particularly needed it, far from it, in fact. It was simply a case of her deserving it after all this time. Her file had dictated clear as day that she had spent her entire life just looking out for others and never stopping to think about herself. Cho decided it was about time that somebody repaid the compliment, preferably without her noticing too much. Because if she did, she wouldn't be best pleased to phrase it politely.

It only took Cho two weeks of working with the capricious consultant to realise that he really had to intervene. That what he had seen on that first day wasn't going to go away and if anything, was only going to get worse. He didn't want to stop them from hurtling in the direction they were, though. No, Lisbon deserved someone who would cherish her, someone to make her feel like the most important woman in the universe. He just wanted to warn Jane that if he hurt her in any way physically, or especially emotionally, that there would be hell to pay.

Lisbon had sent them to go and interview a suspect for a second time, to try and obtain enough evidence to bring him in. She was too busy in the office, working through the figurative paper trails and preparing themselves for the new rookie they were due to receive within a month. It certainly didn't help that Rigsby was off sick either. Normally, Cho would become annoyed at the idea of wasting his day 'Janesitting'. This time, it provided the perfect opportunity to have a quiet word with him without the sharp ears of Lisbon around.

It wasn't until they returned to the headquarters, with the suspect in the back seat, that Cho plucked up the courage to say anything. Whilst he liked to think he knew Lisbon very well, Jane was a whole different matter entirely. 'Shady' didn't even cover the half of it. Still, shortly after he killed the engine in the CBI parking lot, and before Jane had a chance to escape, Cho leaned over conspiringly and took a deep breath.

"Don't break her heart, man," he whispered, "because if you do, you'll have me to answer to. And Rigsby, probably."

It was one of those rare occasions when Patrick Jane was left well and truly speechless. He was secretly pleased that only Cho and some perp in the back seat were witness to the event though. Being left baffled would do nothing for his creditability, after all. Jane only figured out who his colleague had been referring to when they were back in the bullpen five minutes later. The shy smile and slight wave he received from Agent Lisbon on arrival were quite adorable. Never mind breaking her heart, she'd have to be careful not to break his for a second time. He couldn't go through that again; memories of his wife were still too raw.

***

"Where's Lisbon?"

The knife had long since been prised from Jane's fingertips by a dour Van Pelt. She had placed it in a clear evidence bag and it had been sent to forensics, just to make sure that they had hard evidence of what he had done. They hadn't, however, stripped him of the bloodied shirt he was wearing. Not his blood, Red John's. Jane had finally successfully sought out his vengeance and felt nothing. Whilst his colleagues, no, friends, arrested him, all he could think about was Lisbon's conspicuous absence. And now it came to his questioning and she still wasn't around.

"That's none of your business," Cho snapped uncharacteristically. "Let's just get this over and done with. Did you or did you not-"

"Yes, I did," Jane announced. "Yes, I did kill Martin Hughes, more commonly known as 'Red John'."

"We will be charging you with his murder."

Cho clicked off the tape recorder and stared Jane directly in the eyes. What he was expecting to find, he did not know. All he knew was that in the past few years that they had been working together, the whole team thought they had made progress with him. Lisbon especially seemed to think that they had managed to quash his thirst for revenge. Obviously, they had been sadly mistaken.

"Off the books? Rigsby and Minelli are trying to console her," Cho remarked. It was important that he knew some of the grief he was causing the determined little woman.

Jane nodded and was caught off guard when Cho's fist came into contact with his nose. There was a reassuring crack before blood started pouring down their ex-consultant's face. Van Pelt nodded at Cho. If he hadn't done it, then she would have been more than happy to do so. Frankly, they both thought that they were going lightly on him. Cho knew that he'd probably be reprimanded for assaulting a suspect, but it was worth it.

"I suppose that's off the books, too?" Jane spluttered as the two agents nodded in response.

"I told you not to break her heart."

The door clicked shut, leaving Jane in the interrogation room. Alone, with just his thoughts and blood for company.

end


	5. It's over

**A/N: **Okay, I'm on a 'what could happen when thet catch Red John' kick. Sorry. And more angst. My plot bunnies are obsessed with it at the moment. x tromana

**Title:** Time  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon, Team  
**Summary:** In one second, you can suddenly feel terribly alone.  
**Disclaimer:** No not mine. *bows down to Bruno Heller*  
**Spoilers:** All of season 1  
**Notes:** Prompts: Alone, 50 Phrases: It's over

**Time**

_Tick_

She stumbled slightly before she froze. Jane's hand was holding Rigsby's pistol moved to the forehead of the man who had wrecked his life. He had dreamt of this day for far too long. Vengeance is sweet, or so he'd heard. His lip was damp from where he had licked it nervously barely five seconds ago and after what felt like aeons, his finger pulled on the trigger.

"Jane, don't!"

Teresa Lisbon's words rang in the air, though slightly muffled by gunfire. Red John fell to his feet, in a shambled heap at Jane's feet.

It's over.

_Earlier_

"Damn it, Jane," she cursed loudly.

Van Pelt stopped in her tracks to the kitchenette and instead, poked her head around the door of her boss' office. Jane had been absent for several hours, they all knew that, so it was rather perplexing that she was complaining about him without his presence. Tentatively, she took a step forward, noting the anger written across Lisbon's face. Now was not a time that a sane person would normally approach the petite woman, but Van Pelt sensed that something was seriously wrong. And Lisbon wasn't exactly known for asking others for help. Even as senior agent, she still seemed to be desperate to do jobs that she should really be delegating, so Van Pelt knew that she had to insist.

"Boss?"

Lisbon was already slipping her jacket back on by the time that she realised Van Pelt was watching her in a curious manner. The whole team were particularly stressed; Red John had been on another killing spree and not only did everyone want to finally catch the bastard this time around, but they were all worrying about everyone else. Red John meant danger, they knew that he knew about the existence of all of them. Who knew when that twisted mind would decide to focus on torturing one of them instead?

"Jane left because he intercepted a file," Lisbon growled. "I've only just got a copy. We have to get moving. Now."

Once they had piled into the SUV, Lisbon updated the rest of the team on what said file contained. Apparently, sightings of their target, the man who they suspected of being Red John had just come in from the outskirts of Sacramento. It was obvious that Jane had thought he would be able to deal with Red John alone. By intercepting the file, he now had a head start on the rest of the team. He thought that meant he could seek revenge, something Lisbon had genuinely hoped she had finally, finally talked him out of. Especially after he shot Hardy, that precious lead that would have got them information just a couple of months earlier.

The house that the team arrived at looked like any other house on the street. It wasn't dilapidated, nor was it in a state of disrepair. Anyone walking past would happily assume that it belonged to family; the house even had the audacity to be heading towards feeling 'cosy'. Looks can be deceptive; it was obvious that this was the kind of neighbourhood that wouldn't believe they had a serial killer amongst them. Lisbon barked out orders as they prepared to break into the building. She knew that Jane had already arrived because his clapped-out Citroen had been parked just a block away. Really, if he wanted to disguise his current location, he should have brought a less obvious vehicle. She sighed as she pulled out her gun, hoping that they still had some time left. None of the team wanted Jane to kill, mainly because they didn't know how they would cope with the idea of arresting him. If he did go through with it, it would be their responsibility to deal with him.

"Cho?" she muttered. "Pretend that Jane isn't involved. By the book, yeah?"

Cho nodded in agreement as he kicked the door down. Van Pelt and Rigsby hung back, guarding the entrance to the property. Rigsby was fuming; his gun had disappeared, though he had managed to procure a spare one before they left. It was blindingly obvious that Jane had used some kind of sleight of hand to get hold of it. And if this wasn't another hoax, they didn't want Red John slipping through their fingers yet again. The local LEOs were on their way, but in the meantime, it was just the four of them. And that didn't help any of their nerves.

Lisbon and Cho scoured the house as quickly as possible and soon found out that typically, if they were anywhere, they would be in the basement. Lisbon implored to him to hang back, if anyone was going to have a dice with death, it was her. She was the higher rank and it was her duty to put herself in the line of fire before any of her team. If they had more time, Cho would have protested, but instead he quietly agreed but not without telling her to be careful and reminding her that if the situation was getting out of hand to call for him. He needn't have said it though; they'd been working together for so long that some things went unsaid.

Swallowing deeply, she opened the hatch and made her descent down, alone.

_Tock_

It doesn't sink in that he's finally killed Red John immediately. Nor does he make the emotional connection that it makes him a murderer.

The bullet had left a gaping hole in Red John's forehead. Immediately, Jane turned to face Lisbon, his pale eyes searching for something in hers, almost pleadingly, in a way. Her eyes however, were devoid of the warmth and mirth he associated with them. Instead, they were full of sadness, disappointment and raging fury. It was obvious in that very moment that he had lost her for good, and he wouldn't even be able to count on her friendship, never mind anything more, from then on. She took a step forward and already had her handcuffs in one hand.

Strange, how one second can change your life. He had thought once that killing the beast at his feet would solve all of his life's problems. Instead, it had only made things worse. A second before, he felt like he had friends, a pseudo-family. Now, he had nothing.

The world had closed him out once more. Though he hadn't realised that he had had people there for him, who cared for him, regardless of what they said, he knew now. 'You don't know what you've got until it's gone', they say. Patrick Jane didn't think it possible for him to feel lonelier than the time after his wife's death.

How wrong he was.

end


	6. Just relax

**A/N: **A break from various angsty catching RJ plot bunnies. A bit fluffier, too. Don't faint. x tromana

**Title:** Work-Related Injuries  
**Author:** tromana  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters: **Jane/Lisbon, Team  
**Summary:** Jane discovers Lisbon's job isn't as easy as he thinks it is.  
**Disclaimer: **Whilst I'd love to own them, I don't.  
**Spoilers:** 1.16 Bloodshot  
**Notes: **I imagine this set sometime between Bloodshot and the S1 finale.  
**Prompt: **Just relax

**Work-Related Injuries**

"Just relax," she hissed through clenched teeth. "If you keep squirming, you're only going to make it worse."

Patrick Jane gave Lisbon a glare that she would be proud of, yet she was seemingly immune to it. It was possibly because she was so used to dishing them out herself. The corner of her mouth twitched slightly. Obviously, she was enjoying this.

"But…" he whined.

"But nothing. Really, Jane, I should be shipping you off to ER," she muttered. "I don't know how you manage to talk me out of these things."

They were shut in her office, door firmly closed and blinds snapped shut. She had carefully stripped him out of his vest and shirt so that she could see the damage done. The multitude of grazes along his lower arm were obvious and her fingers massaged the spot where his shoulder had come into contact with concrete. It didn't feel dislocated, merely bruised. Suddenly, Teresa Lisbon became very grateful for that advanced first aid course she had been forced to sit through by Minelli last month.

"This might hurt," she warned him, while brandishing a bandage.

"Don't think it can hurt much more." Her hands pressed to a bruise as she held it in place. "Good God, woman. Are you trying to kill me?"

"No, I'd be less subtle."

Really, she was dealing with an oversized child. An oversized child with sincere eyes, kissable lips and hair that just made you want to… she shook her head to regain her senses. Those were inappropriate thoughts, not just for the moment but for a colleague. He was _Jane_ for crying out loud. He drove her mental, she certainly didn't want to… Lisbon refocused again and continued with the strapping up of his shoulder, just as a precautionary measure.

"What were you thinking, anyway?" she queried. "You haven't had that kind of training."

"He was coming at you with a knife. Ouch!" he moaned suddenly. "Can't you be gentle?"

"Nope," she grinned. "Continue."

"And I just… I just had to save you."

"You? Save me?" she laughed. "That's the funniest thing I've heard all year."

Jane stuck out his bottom lip even further. While there was something to be said for making a beautiful woman laugh, he wasn't entirely keen on the idea of her laughing at him. With him, fine… but at? No way.

And he had genuinely thought that the man, now being questioned by Rigsby and Cho, was going to at least attempt to kill her. They hadn't even been there to arrest him, merely to ask a few questions pertaining to the case. Cho and Rigsby had gone to the door, and unusually, Lisbon had held back, choosing to stay by the SUV. Then, out of nowhere, their man had bolted out of nowhere, brandishing a machete. Lisbon had been directly in the line of fire.

Jane's first instinct had been to barrel into him. He'd seen Lisbon do it a countless number of times. And she was tiny, so really, it couldn't have been that difficult. He hadn't quite managed to floor the guy, however. Well, to be honest, he missed him entirely and his shoulder had found _the_ floor instead. By the time Jane came to his senses, Lisbon had already disarmed and cuffed him, with amusement written across her features. Jane hadn't known whether to laugh or cry. She was safe, but he had made a fool of himself and his shoulder really, really hurt. Maybe it hadn't been quite as easy as he first thought.

At least she eventually backed down when it came to her suggestion of hospital. After the whole temporary-blindness thing, Jane wasn't keen to be back there so soon. While they had their 'mature discussion' (more like a childish argument), Jane managed to watch Cho and Rigsby's reactions. They displayed a rather interesting mix of amusement and cringing. To be fair, they were probably just relieved that Lisbon had decided to blame the debacle on him rather than them. But now, sitting in Lisbon's office, he wasn't entirely sure that avoiding the hospital had been a good idea. Lisbon wasn't exactly the most gentle, nor most sympathetic of medics. Instead, she seemed petulant and keen to cause him as much physical pain as possible.

She was still shaking with laughter, (really, the idea of him saving her life wasn't that funny, was it?) once she had finished strapping up his shoulder. The antiseptic soon followed for the grazes on his elbow and Jane's winces as the soaked cotton wool came into contact with raw, bloodied skin only served to entertain her further. There was no way he was believing that this was all 'for his own good' now. Still, he grinned at her when she finally saw fit to close the first aid kit and roughly throw back his clothing.

"All done," she stated. "And no more reckless behaviour like trying to save my life. Leave it to the professionals, okay?"

"Like you?"

"Like me," she nodded in response.

"Duly noted."

He tested the movement in his shoulder tentatively as she helped him get his arm through a shirt sleeve. It was sore, but he could tell she had actually done a fairly good job. Jane was grateful, however, when she handed him a tub of painkillers and a glass of water. He took them quickly and smiled at her, noting the flash of concern that appeared momentarily in her eyes.

"Is it okay?"

"It will be if you kiss it better."

Her cheeks flared a rosy pink, just as he had expected them to. Sighing, she lifted a hand and pointed at her door with a determined finger.

"Out."

"But kisses always work."

"Out," she responded, louder. Looking to the ground forlornly, he shuffled to the door. "I'm sure if you ask nicely, Cho or Rigsby would be able to kiss it better."

Lisbon raised her eyebrows and her eyes sparkled with mirth. Jane simply gaped at her; he hadn't expected that one. It was typical of the woman to somehow manage to get the last word.

end


	7. It means nothing

**A/N: **And back to the angsty Red John plot bunnies again. Hooray! x tromana

**Title:** Cold As You  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon  
**Summary:** The weather is parallel to Lisbon's mood.  
**Disclaimer**: Pfft yeah. Like I'd own something like the Mentalist.  
**Spoilers:** 1.20 Red Sauce, 1.23 Red John's Footsteps  
**Notes:** Thanks to dizzy - in - the - izzy for the plot bunny! I hope I've done it justice.  
**Prompt:** 50 Phrases: It means nothing.

**Cold As You**

_Oh what a shame, what a rainy ending given to a perfect day,  
__Just walk away, ain't no use defending words that you will never say,  
__And now that I'm sitting here thinking it through,  
__I've never been anywhere cold as you.  
__--- Cold As You, _Taylor Swift

The storm had been brewing all day, as if the world knew exactly what was going to happen. The windscreen wipers were frantically at work whilst the rain plummeted down in its heavy onslaught. Teresa Lisbon hadn't bothered putting on any music, she rarely did. Usually, she had some kind of distraction which made the point of it defunct, anyway. In this occasion, the echoing crescendo of thunder suited her mood just perfectly.

She had killed a man today.

It wasn't the first time she had killed and she was fairly certain that it wouldn't be the last. Her career was dangerous and she had been trained to do so in such an occasion. The fact that the person lying dead in a morgue because of her in downtown Sacramento had been serial killer didn't help particularly. A life was still a life, no matter how evil and twisted the man appeared to be. She had been so determined to bring him in alive, but there had to be that cruel twist of fate, didn't there?

In saving Jane's life, she had lost him. It was stupid, reckless and completely typical of him to go after Red John armed with just a carving knife. It was obvious to everybody around him that his previously unattainable nemesis was always going to be far more prepared than that. That was typical of Red John - meticulous down to the final detail.

Jane had been furious when, like so many times before, she had appeared 'earlier' than they had previously agreed. Lisbon cast her mind back to Hardy, dying of a single gunshot wound courtesy of Jane and thus saving her life. Other occasions too, when things had gone slightly astray. Little details which Red John exploited just to slip through their fingers time and time again. The murderer had always known that Lisbon would appear early and she cursed her predictability. But it was her duty to predict Jane. She was his supervising agent, not his cover, decoy or distraction.

The shootout had been an inevitability. Lisbon had slammed into Jane, knocking him out of the way of a shower of bullets. Her first attempt at stopping Red John, too, had failed. Her shot had buried itself into the plasterboard behind their suspect. He laughed at them maniacally, and it was then she realised that Red John had hoped to take the meaning of the phrase 'kill two birds with one stone' quite literally. As she expected, her threats, requests and warnings fell on deaf ears. Red John indulged in another attempt as she spoke and Lisbon wasn't quite sure how he missed his target. He was probably just playing with her, taunting them, as he loved to do so much. Her second shot, however, didn't. As he shot for a third time, hers found his heart and he collapsed at her feet with a slightly shocked look on his face. Obviously not quite the result he had anticipated.

What Lisbon hadn't expected was the look of tormented rage on Jane's face, however.

It was blindingly obvious that he was fuming that Lisbon had stolen his quarry, and with it his hopes for vengeance for his family's death. Her face stung as he struck her, a wholly unexpected response. She'd lifted her hand to her reddening cheek, anger rising at the fact he had just slapped her for saving his life. A lump developed in her throat as she continued her lonely drive home, his words echoing around in her head. He had only said them a few hours ago, after all.

"_These past years, they mean nothing now. __You__ mean nothing. I can't stay. Goodbye, Teresa."_

She had tried to protest but the words just died at the tip of her tongue. He had dropped his consultancy card at her feet. Tomorrow, she would be giving it to Minelli and trying to string together a few sentences to explain everything that had happened that sorry afternoon. But for now, Lisbon was still trying to get those callous looks he'd shot her out of her head, along with the three words: 'it means nothing.'

Her car came to a grinding halt in her allotted parking space. After she had killed the engine and taken her keys out of the ignition, she slammed her hands back down on the steering wheel in frustration. It was times like this that you just didn't know how to feel. She had done her duty; how the hell couldn't Jane see that? She kept repeating it to herself like a mantra. What she had done was nothing to do with stopping Jane from becoming a killer ad had everything to do with apprehending the man responsible for the deaths of so many.

Tears prickled in the corners of her eyes. It was a shame that life really couldn't be that simple.

Lisbon hated the control that Jane had over her emotions. For years, they had flirted mercilessly with one another, partially in jest and partially meaning every single word. Everyone she knew had thought that one day, they would become a couple in every sense of the word. Even Minelli, who as their boss, should have condoned it, would have given them his blessing. For too many years, they had been two people drifting, driven by singular emotions and pretending to have lives. Together, they could have been invincible and supplied one another with that little slice of happiness that they both deserved.

But still, there were times that she hated him almost literally. She loathed the way that he could read her like an open book and the smug attitude he had every time one of his theories proved to be correct. She despised the way that vengeance ate him from the inside, to the extent that he was blind to the concerns of those around him. Blind to the emotions that she may or may not have been developing for him. And the times when he danced a little too close to that borderline. The one where she seriously had to consider whether or not to arrest him as well as the suspect.

The fact that he had just left was like a knife tearing straight through her raw flesh and directly into her heart. Years ago, Lisbon had sworn that she would never make the mistake of letting another man get close to her. To stop anybody from hurting her like this. What false promises they had been. Either that, or fate was up to her nasty little tricks again.

There had been good times, though. The apologetic gifts - who brought a pony for someone who was just a friend? The times when he displayed his sheer desperation to earn her trust. Having someone, however childish, however egotistical, around who understood, who was on the same wavelength as her.

She laughed bitterly as the rain poured down onto her face and streaks of lightening danced across the night sky. What she hated most was that the good times were entirely eclipsed by one thing. The look of sheer hatred in his eyes as he bid her farewell.

Teresa Lisbon doubted that she would ever be able to forget that.

end


	8. Give me time

**Title:** One Day  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon  
**Summary:** Lisbon doesn't regret the manner of Red John's death, but she hates the aftermath.  
**Disclaimer**: Not mine.  
**Spoilers:** 1.23 Red John's Footsteps  
**Notes:** direct sequel to _Cold As You_. I think there'll be another one, too…  
**Prompt:** 50 Phrases: give me time.

**One Day**

The stars seemed to be shining particularly brightly that night. Lisbon's eyes were naturally drawn to them, with the dull ache in her heart particularly present. Ever since she was a girl, she had always seen them with the potential of limitless possibilities. That also meant that you could never understand everything, which was something she was less keen on. She was famed for her almost neurotic desire to sort things, to fix them. Problems were just questions she was yet to find the answer to. She sighed. There were two particular questions that she was beginning to doubt she would ever find the answer to. The first was the current location of Patrick Jane. The easier by far to solve, yet that didn't stop the answer from being horribly elusive. Second was if he had ever reciprocated those feelings that she had voraciously attempted to keep buried.

She hadn't meant to fall in love with the man. He was irritating, capricious and completely unattainable. Yet despite all that, he had excited her, made her feel like the only woman in the room and a problem to be fixed. Lisbon had previously been hurt in a relationship, when she had felt that rollercoaster rush she felt with Jane, but it had scarred her to the extent that it had left her heart so shattered that she vowed never to allow herself to fall in love again. But somehow, Jane had wormed his way through her hardened shell and managed to break the heart she had unwillingly given for a second, and more catastrophic, time. She dreaded to imagine how much it would have hurt her if they had actually been in a relationship of some form.

After he'd left, she had vehemently denied having anything other than platonic feelings for him. It was easier to shut herself off from those around her and pretending to them meant that she could pretend to herself, too. No one had believed her, of course. Lisbon remembered Jane telling her once that she was 'translucent'. She hadn't believed him then and still didn't want to believe him now. But if everyone around her could read her like an open textbook, she thought she should at least grudgingly accept the fact.

It had been three years to the day since she had killed Red John. He was a broken man simply looking for attention, someone who had fallen far off the straight and narrow. That meant it had also been three years since Jane had stormed out of their, her, life. And since then, they hadn't even heard a whisper. She didn't know quite why she was still hanging onto blind hope now. It was ridiculous, especially for her. But still, whenever she saw stars like she did right now, outside of her bedroom window, her heart ached for him. The night that he had left might have been stormy, but the night that he had saved her featured clear starlight. And that was what Lisbon chose to remember. It was better than the alternative. The cold, callous looks. The words dripping with malice. Just how uncaring he had suddenly become. And the raging thunder.

Lisbon generally wasn't a paranoid person, though she was aware of her safety and took precautions because of her career. It wasn't unheard of for relatives of criminals, or those just released from jail to decide to seek out revenge. So, when she heard the sound of footsteps leaving her apartment block, she approached her front door tentatively. It was curious that somebody should be awake so late and enough to tear her away from memories and stargazing. She was also aware that she should have retired to bed several hours ago, but she couldn't sleep. Sliding the bolt and chain, she unlocked the door to be unexpectedly greeted by a tub of strawberries with a piece of paper folded on top of it. She glanced around quickly but whoever was responsible was long gone. There was no point in even attempting to give chase. Instead, she picked up the items and deposited them in her kitchen.

She wasn't intrigued, she told herself, as she flicked on the kettle and dug out a teabag from the box. Of course she wasn't. And she wasn't going to eat the fruit either, even if it was her favourite. It could be drugged or poisoned. Instead, once she had a steaming mug of tea in hand, she decided to play the staring game. It was a bad habit of hers and she knew it. It wasn't as if they were looking back or going to change colour. Nor were they going to sprout legs and suddenly start attacking everyone. But sometimes it could help her think through whatever problem she was currently faced with. Like whether or not she should just give into curiosity and read the damn note.

The font used to type out just her surname was horribly familiar. To help settle the sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach, she buried her nose in her mug and took a sip of her scalding tea. She was being irrational, she told herself, as the drink burned the tip of her tongue. Red John was _dead_, at her own hands, no less. And he had been for exactly three years. Reacting like that to a piece of paper was an overreaction, the type that could drive a sane person mad. Eventually, she gave up and placed her tea back down on the work surface before picking up the piece of paper instead. The inside content, mercifully, was handwritten, though it wasn't specifically addressed to her, nor signed off by anyone. A strangled sob escaped from her throat as she read the words over and over again.

_Give me time. When I'm ready, you will be the first to know. Though, if you cannot wait that long and feel the need to move on without me, I will understand. Hopefully, one day, we will be on the same page as one another._

_Just remember - that whatever happens, I want you to know that you can trust me._

Lisbon pulled the strawberries closer and snapped the lid off the tub. She took her time selecting the exact one she wanted first. As she bit into the soft, yet firm flesh of the fruit, she relished in its flavour. A small, sad smile traced itself across her features. Maybe, one day…

end


	9. I don't get it

**Title:** Something Changed  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters: **Jane/Lisbon, Team  
**Summary: **Rigsby hits the nail on the head for a change.  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine.  
**Notes: **AU/Future fic. Prompt supplied by Penelope Louise.  
**Prompt:** Author's Choice: I don't get it

**Something Changed**

Lisbon and Jane had wandered off shortly after her cell phone went off. She had mumbled something about the local Sheriff having those details they were after. The rest of the team saw nothing of this, it wasn't unusual for Jane to chase after Lisbon like a lost puppy; everyone knew he liked to wind Lisbon up, it was some kind of unwritten rule that they had. The others just continued with their lunch, partially relieved not to have to endure their bickering for a while.

"I don't get it," Rigsby suddenly said. "How can two people so obviously in love be so woefully blind to it?"

"Is this about Jane and Lisbon, again?" Van Pelt replied wearily.

"I'd give it a rest, man," Cho added. "I've lost count of the number of times you've come into work announcing that they're going to drop a bombshell like that. And lost plenty of money to us in the process."

Rigsby frowned and suddenly found that he had lost his appetite, which was a big deal, for him. The rest of the team constantly joked that his stomach was a gaping void, after all. He shoved his cheeseburger aside quickly, deciding to put it down to the stress of the new case. Some poor kid had been found hanged from a bridge and there was plenty of evidence against suicide. They had been called in to unravel the clues, it was what they did.

"Oh come on, Rigsby, eat your burger. It's not that we don't believe you…"

"Yeah, it was fun while it lasted."

"It's just Jane is way too hung up on the past and Lisbon's way too obsessed with her job. It'd never work."

"Exactly," Cho nodded. "Are you going to eat that? Cause if you're not…"

Rigsby shook his head and dejectedly passed over his lunch. He was sure something had changed between Lisbon and Jane. While he was no expert, he was certain that at times recently, their bickering seemed that little bit more forced, that little bit unnatural. Just not the typical Jane and Lisbon fighting they were used to. And she didn't throw off his gentle touches quite so often, which had to signify something, right? While he was lost in thought, Van Pelt and Cho shared a significant look. Rigsby giving away food was as out of character as Lisbon and Jane _not_ bickering. He really seemed to have taken his beliefs to heart if he was willing to skip a meal over it. Van Pelt quickly excused herself. She needed to find a vending machine to stock up on some chips to tempt Rigsby later.

***

As soon as they were out of sight of the others, Jane's arm snaked around Lisbon's waist. He got that now-familiar thrill each and every time she didn't throw off a display of affection, and he smiled broadly. She rarely allowed him to do so in public. It was probably to do with the fact that they were stuck in the middle of nowhere or she was just in a particularly good mood. Whichever, Jane was grateful. As much as he loved teasing his Lisbon mercilessly, he loved showing his Teresa that she was an amazing woman. And not just because she had somehow taken someone with a train wreck past like himself and made him feel human again, but because after she deserved it after everything she had been through.

"You don't think they're talking about us, do you?" she asked nervously as they picked their way back to the crime scene.

"I'm sure of it," Jane replied and Lisbon's face paled. "Don't worry, Teresa. I think Rigsby might have an inkling but the other two are completely oblivious."

"Rigsby might have an idea?"

"Yes," Jane nodded in response. "He's been looking at you differently. More hopeful."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, really."

Sheriff Wills quickly greeted them as they approached. Lisbon shook off Jane's arm and he sighed. It had been nice while it lasted. Eventually, she would be less embarrassed about their relationship and realise there was nothing illicit about it. Jane had even verified that fact with Minelli. During the discussion, Jane had made sure he'd said the word hypothetically several times, but Minelli somehow knew that he was talking about Lisbon and simply told him to 'look after her'. Only being a consultant had some perks, after all, he thought as he watched his girlfriend, no, partner? That sounded a little better, but still not quite right. She was taking down the names and addresses of the deceased boy's friends, completely engrossed in her task. Only consulting meant that you were allowed to date your co-workers, which was something otherwise forbidden. Apparently.

***

She'd tried to persuade Jane that there was no need for him to do the stakeout with her. Secretly, she was pleased though. It freed up Cho to hold fort in their temporary headquarters and let them have two cars out to observe their suspects. Lisbon quickly glanced over at Jane and smiled as she noticed that he had somehow fallen asleep. She quickly grabbed the blanket from the back seat and draped it over him, but not without placing a firm kiss on his forehead. He stirred and gazed at her, bleary eyed.

"You look gorgeous in starlight, you know."

"Shh, Jane. We're here to do a job."

"And here was me thinking you might want to use the car for other reasons."

She slapped his arm. "We're working, Jane."

"So you'd kiss anyone you did a stakeout with on the forehead then?"

She mumbled something indistinct under her breath as he folded his arms and sighed. Nothing was happening. No wonder she used stakeout duty as a threat to the other agents on the team. It was a terrible waste of hours of your life.

"Teresa?"

She turned to face him. "Jane, I told you it's L-"

He caught her lips with his own, quickly silencing her. As he nipped gently on her bottom lip, she relaxed into his touch before quickly tensing again as she realised she had just broken yet another one of her self-imposed rules. Lisbon pushed him away, cursing as he sat back in the passenger seat, satisfied. It was good to push the boundaries, it meant he got breakthroughs occasionally. He quickly glanced back at Lisbon to see that she had gone ashen-faced and had begun blushing. Jane looked in the direction that she was to see a certain Wayne Rigsby hurrying away. If nothing else, he'd be pleased that he was right all along.

Now, all Jane had to do was persuade Lisbon that their relationship being in the open would be better for all concerned.

end


	10. Welcome back

**A/N: **My plot bunnies obviously love Taylor Swift. This is the sequel to Cold As You/One Day. Guess what? There will probably be another one. Should I pick out these fics, extend them and make it a multi-parter instead? This part was originally going to go in a completely different direction. I'm going to use that idea for a different oneshot in this collection, though.

Also. 10th in the series! That's already 20%....

I'd like to quickly take the time to thank: JocelynMcC, PhoenixWytch, Frogster, WildDaisies10, cureless, SpaceAnJL, mwalter1, Divinia Serit, Penelope Louise, Viktorija, Madaboutthementalist, NellieTheItalianOne, JelloFanatic123, Steph.107., LOZZEEEEEEEEEEEEYYYYYY, dizzy - in - the - izzy, lil smiles, Habeous Corpus, JollyRancher543321, kathiann and 4nim3BBfr34k for leaving me reviews, quibbles, encouragement and the occasional prompt. It's all very much appreciated. And thank you to everyone who has added this to favourites and story alert.

x tromana

**Title:** The Way I Loved You  
**Rating:** T  
**Summary: **Just as Lisbon's moving on, guess who turns up?  
**Disclaimer: **I'd like to own it, but I don't.  
**Prompt:** 50 Phrases: Welcome back

**The Way I Loved You**

_He says everything I need to hear and it's like I couldn't ask for anything better  
He opens up my door and I get into his car  
And he says you look beautiful tonight  
And I feel perfectly fine  
But I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain  
And it's 2am and I'm cursing your name  
You're so in love that you act insane  
And that's the way I loved you  
__-- The Way I Loved You, _Taylor Swift

Lisbon stared in her full-length mirror, scrutinising her appearance. There was a sharp knock on her bedroom door and Van Pelt walked in, smiling. Lisbon sighed; this whole debacle was the younger woman's fault as it was. She had been the one urging her to move on, to leave Jane and the blurred line they had held between personal and private lives behind. Nobody, least of all Jane and Lisbon, had even been sure what they had before the demise of Red John and as far as the younger agent was concerned, Lisbon had been living in the past for far too long. Her boss deserved to be happy again, more than anyone else she knew. That was why Van Pelt had introduced her to Oliver Knight. And however much she tried to deny it, she had enjoyed their previous three dates.

"You look great b-Teresa." Van Pelt answered the question before Lisbon even had a chance to vocalise it. "Really, you do."

"You've said that every time," Lisbon responded. "You don't think it's too much, do you?"

"Of course not. I think it's great that you're seeing him again."

"I wouldn't be seeing him at all if it wasn't for you."

There was a knock at the door and Lisbon stared at Van Pelt with an expression reminiscent of a deer trapped in the headlights of an oncoming vehicle. After a short staring contest, which she always knew she was destined to lose, Van Pelt answered the door and ushered Oliver through to Lisbon's lounge. Lisbon smiled and blushed appropriately as he said she looked beautiful and kissed her gently on the cheek. The carnations he had brought were quickly deposited on the coffee table. Within five minutes, they had left for the fancy restaurant he had booked with the younger woman promising to lock up as she left.

Dinner was perfectly civil. He asked her all the right questions, how she was, how work was going and managed to avoid all the subjects that she stonily refused to talk about. He listened attentively as she spoke and never interrupted her. The conversation was stimulating, light and airy, everything that any normal person would want from a date. As the wine flowed, Lisbon realised she was perfectly content in her date's company. But that was the problem, she wanted to feel more than just contentment. There was something missing, something intangible and she couldn't quite put her finger on it. She found herself drifting in and out of the conversation throughout their meal, almost finding that she was bored with it all.

"Thank you for dinner," she murmured as he opened the car door for her. "I've enjoyed myself."

"It's my pleasure, Teresa," Oliver replied warmly. "I'm glad that Grace introduced us."

"Me too."

It wasn't entirely a lie, she mused as they travelled in silence. She could see Oliver becoming a good friend, though maybe not anything more. Besides, as Lisbon spent more time with him, all she could think of was what could have been with Jane. He may have driven her absolutely mad, leaving her shouting until her throat was hoarse and caused her more trouble in a week than the rest of her team had in the entire time she had been senior agent. But no two days were the same, she had looked forward to work with a childish glee and frankly, Patrick Jane excited her, even with all the problems he had generally kept well hid. The note from two years ago, the one that she never bothered telling anyone else about and had been left folded in a drawer, hadn't helped matters either. Every time she had looked at another man and considered a future with him, she felt guilty. Jane had said he would be ready at some point, and here she was dating somebody else, if only to placate Grace for a bit.

"Would you like to come in for coffee?" she asked as they pulled up in front of her apartment complex. She was determined to sort out this sorry mess she'd allowed herself to get embroiled in.

"I'd love to," Oliver answered, smiling.

With some resolve, she lead him back up to her apartment, growing disconcerted when she could see some lights still switched on. As she placed her key in the lock, she disregarded it, assuming that Van Pelt had simply forgotten to turn them all off. Remaining mute, she allowed them both in and chose to ignore the fact that Oliver had placed a hand on the small of her back.

"Hello, Lisbon." Jane continued. "This is obviously a bad time, I should go."

"No," she whispered, her voice cracking slightly. "Don't go. Please?"

"Should I?" Oliver queried.

Lisbon couldn't quite believe what was happening. Of all the things she expected to greet her when she returned home, Patrick Jane was not one of them. All she wanted to do was leave Oliver's side and throw her arms around Jane's neck, yet somehow she had become rooted to the spot, feeling terribly confused. On one side she had the safe and secure Oliver Knight who her Daddy (that is before her mother's death, she tended to disregard any memories of him beyond that) would have approved of and on the other, Patrick Jane. The man who she would be willing to throw away everything for even though they had never explicitly been anything but co-workers and possibly friends. Quietly, she led Oliver to the door.

"I'm sorry. I didn't plan this."

"I'm sorry too," he replied. "I didn't think you were that kind of woman, Teresa."

"What? No. No, I'm not," she spluttered. "I haven't seen Jane for five years."

Oliver nodded and left without another word. As she closed the door, she collapsed against it, the corners of her eyes prickling with tears. She had known that he hadn't believed her but she would have to talk about that with him later. They were both mature adults so she hoped that he would be reasonable. Taking a deep breath, she returned to the lounge, where she had left Jane.

"What the hell, Jane?"

"What, no welcome back? Where are your manners, Lisbon?"

"I don't know, maybe I thought I deserved an explanation rather than you just barging into my apartment uninvited?"

"I saw Van Pelt on her way out," he shrugged. "It's good to see that you two have struck a friendship, by the way."

"Never mind Van Pelt. Why are you here?"

"I told you I'd come."

Lisbon pinched the bridge of her nose and collapsed into her well-worn armchair. The man was as capricious as ever and appeared unsurprisingly nonchalant at scaring off her date. She had wanted to end it with Oliver anyway, but that was entirely not the point. This hadn't been on her terms and she still hated being out of control. After five minutes of silence and careful consideration, she stood and approached Jane. Tentatively, she placed her arms around his neck and leaned her head against his shoulder. One of his arms found its way behind her back and neither wanted to leave the gentle embrace for quite some time.

"I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too."

end


	11. Go away

**Title: **Never Again  
**Rating: **T  
**Characters: **Jane/Lisbon  
**Summary:** Jane is on cheering-up duty again.  
**Disclaimer:** Nothing's change. Still not mine.  
**Prompt: **50 Phrases: Go away

**Never Again**

In the sanctuary of her office, Teresa Lisbon was willing to let the tears slide out from underneath her heavy eyelids. It was a bad day, bad case, bad year. In front of her beloved team, she held it together, put a brave face on it all. Once alone, she allowed the emotions she so expertly hid to resurface. If the rest of them knew what happened when she was on her own, they didn't show it and Lisbon was grateful for that. Roughly, she pulled a tissue from a box and dabbed at her eyes, not that it made much difference. She hated herself when she was like this; the Lisbon she portrayed to others wouldn't act like this. But she was just a face, a protective shield to masquerade under in attempt to stop the world from hurting her anymore.

Minelli had been there when she had received the news. Her cell phone had rang cheerily and with his permission, she had answered it. The member of staff from the hospital had been soft and sincere, using a very similar tone to the one that she used herself when dealing with relatives of victims. It seemed that alcohol was doomed to take all of her family away from her, one way or another. Her mother, killed by a drunk driver when she was twelve, her father to alcohol-induced cirrhosis. Now, her youngest brother joined the ranks with alcohol poisoning. She knew that it was irrational to gate an inane chemical, but Lisbon couldn't help but at the very least feel resentment towards ethanol. Because of it, she had to head back east to bury yet another family member.

Her door creaked open and she didn't bother to raise her head from her desk. She had expected it to be Minelli with the forms to sign for her mandatory week's worth of leave. A different voice filled the previously silent space and Lisbon couldn't help but tense up every muscle in her body as she snapped her head up. Of all the people to break into her office, he was the most likely and the one she least wanted to see.

"When I said I wanted to be left alone, I meant it," she mumbled through choking sobs. "Go away, Jane."

"No."

Lisbon's fingers clenched around her stapler but Jane moved swiftly and managed to prise the object from her fingers before she threw it at him. She stared bitterly at him as he moved around the desk, placed a hand gently on her back and slowly attempted to work away the knots of tension with dextrous fingers. It took her longer than usual to throw him off in disgust but Jane looked pleased anyway. It was an achievement to replace her desolation with anger, at the very least. Though it appeared otherwise to everybody else, Jane felt like he was hopeless at dealing with women when they were upset. Anger was fine, but completely breaking down was another matter entirely. Especially when it was Lisbon. His strong, smart, fearless Lisbon.

"Let's get out of here."

"I have work to do," she whispered. As her sorry eyes stared up at him, Jane felt like his heart was breaking. He wanted nothing more than to wrap her in cotton wool and make sure that nothing else would hurt her again.

"And you're not going to get anything done in this state."

He smiled as the defiance seemed to ebb relatively quickly. Lisbon stood, grabbing the jacket she had carelessly flung over the couch in her office and pulled it on. It was only then that she stopped, cocked her head slightly and questioned why she was giving into Jane so easily. Usually, they bickered for at least five minutes before she gave in. She sighed and quickly decided that he shouldn't be allowed around her whenever she received bad news.

"No mind games?" she questioned.

"Lisbon, you hurt me. Would I?"

"Yes."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that."

Without whispering a word to anybody else, Jane guided Lisbon out of the building with a few protestations. They walked side by side, eventually winding up in a park watching kids scouring jungle-gyms and dogs attempting to pull reluctant owners after other animals. As they took to a park bench, they both realised that they hadn't said a word since they had left the CBI headquarters. The walk appeared to have done Lisbon good though, she certainly appeared calmer, though that wasn't difficult. Fresh air and a relaxing atmosphere could work wonders on anyone's mood, Jane surmised. And that obviously included his tough-as-nails boss.

"How are you feeling?"

"Tired."

"I'm not surprised," Jane remarked. "What happened?"

Jane was caught off guard as Lisbon suddenly launched into an explanation of her brother's death. He had expected a wry grin, a quick shake of the head and her stating emphatically that it didn't matter much. He couldn't help but let an arm wrap itself around her waist as Lisbon described how alcohol abuse had plagued her life since she was twelve. It certainly explained several of her pet hates. Jane said nothing, noting that she just needed to tell someone everything. Lisbon lived in a dignified silence for so long that there were obviously times that she just needed to be able to get it all off her chest. They both knew that discussing issues was theoretically therapeutic, but neither indulged in it very often. She smiled weakly at him and thanked him for his time, standing up to head back to the headquarters when she had decided that enough was enough.

"Come with me."

"What?"

"To the funeral," she murmured as he squeezed her hand tightly. "I can't face it on my own."

Jane studied her face, trying to see if she actually meant it. Teresa Lisbon wasn't exactly famed for asking for help, after all. When he realised that the plea was genuine, he nodded sharply in response. It would be easy to persuade them to let him have the week off too, especially as none of the others believed they could 'control' him without Lisbon around. As he stood up, she threw her arms gratefully around his shoulders, relieved that he was willing to support her. She hadn't expected it, but was relieved that he was beginning to prove that she could actually trust him.

***

Lisbon had apologised copiously for asking him along at all on the plane flight over; she knew that the last time he had attended a funeral, it had been that of his wife and child. Jane, however, hadn't minded at all. She had said that she had needed him, and that was all there was to it. As she stood by the graveside, along with her remaining brothers, Jane's fingers entwined with her own. As her turn came around, she swallowed deeply and allowed the dirt to crumble through her fingers and onto the coffin. Lisbon hadn't cried during the service, she had no energy for it anymore. This was something which she hadn't been able to control or at the very least, employ damage limitation and yet again, she felt like a failure. She turned and gently pulled Jane away from the small, sobbing congregation, needing to get out of there.

"Never again," she whispered as they picked their way through gravestones. "I never want to bury someone I love again."

She was looking at Jane and he, for the first time, found he was unable to read her. The grief over her brother's death was apparent on her face but it was masking other emotions, he was certain of it. Now, he was just terrified. Was she implying that if, when, he killed Red John, he would break her heart yet again, the way that her parents and brother had? The very concept scared him and it was the reason he couldn't, wouldn't let them get any closer. It was one thing accompanying a friend to the funeral of a loved one, another entirely if anything more happened, however much he wanted it. Possibly, both of them.

"Thank you for coming with me, Jane."

"It's okay."

There was a time for discussing that later, he decided. Though, he had a feeling that he would be stalling it until it was too late.

end


	12. I'm sorry

**Title:** Care  
**Rating:** T  
**Summary****:** Jane's testing Lisbon's patience again.  
**Disclaimer:** Nope, still don't own the Mentalist.  
**Notes:** 50 Phrases: I'm sorry

**Care**

Rigsby, Cho and Van Pelt watched on pityingly as Lisbon crouched down to Jane's level. Her nose wrinkled slightly as she became aware of the alcohol on his breath. It had taken all four of them a good fifteen minutes to guide him to the couch. Lisbon sighed; she had never seen him in such a state. She had been privy to several of his less than savoury moods: physical exhaustion, desolation, the boiling rage that he usually kept hidden underneath the beaming smile. But a complete lack of control due to a bout of binge drinking? Never. For some reason, she had always thought him more responsible than that. She bit back the question of why he had turned up at a federal building blind drunk. Jane didn't seem to have the capacity to answer serious questions, especially as he barely seemed to recognise his own name. Lisbon had memorised all the dates that could have caused a problem with him when she had found out that she was receiving such a loose cannon of a consultant so immediately knew that something else must have set him off. Regardless, he didn't need to be at work, causing a nuisance. He needed to be in bed, sleeping it off.

"Jane?" she murmured, "Jane?"

"Huh? What?"

"Patrick, it's Lisbon... Teresa."

She glanced despairingly back at the other agents, neither of whom knew what to do either. Eventually, as he began dozing, she decided it best to just leave him there, sleeping, under the watchful eye of the other three. It had been a slow day, a slow week for the SCU, so Lisbon was fairly certain that she would be able to leave at a reasonable hour and take Jane home with her. She wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea of him being in her apartment, but she didn't want to leave him alone in such a state either. However much he disliked it and rebelled against it in a childlike manner, she and the rest of the team still cared for him. Excepting Minelli, no one else in the CBI knew quite why they bothered with him, but considering Jane's quest for vengeance, they all felt safer having him under their watchful eyes than what any of the alternatives entailed.

As six o'clock arrived, she received a sharp knock on her office door. Cho shuffled in, looking slightly guilty at disturbing her. Lisbon smiled briefly. Obviously they thought she was so absorbed in her work that she would lose track of time and that she could still be there at midnight. To be entirely fair, that had happened a couple of times, but that was usually when they were in the middle of a case. Quietly, she thanked him as she shut down her computer and gathered together her belongings. As she approached Jane, he appeared to have regained his senses somewhat, though it was obvious he was a long way from being sober. Once they had managed to wrestle him into her car, she bid farewell to the others and fell into a stubborn silence. Lisbon didn't see the point in trying to hold a conversation with him and yes, she was angry, though she didn't have the energy to show much more than apathy about the situation. She was just relieved that the journey to her apartment was a relatively short one.

"Jane? We're here," she stated. "Are you gonna come in?"

"Yeah," he mumbled, not really having the energy to say much more.

"Good."

Once she had him indoors, she immediately took him to her spare bedroom. Lisbon was fairly certain one of her brothers had left a pair of pyjamas on a rare visit, but she couldn't think where she had stored them. Jane didn't seem all that concerned as he lay on the single bed, only remembering to take off his shoes as she slipped out of the room for something. When she returned, Jane looked at her, confused. Tentatively, she approached him with a glass of water and a couple of painkillers. She handed the tablets to him one by one and carefully helped him to swallow them with practised ease. She was relieved that he complied, allowing her to take care of him for a change.

"They should stop you from feeling so rough in the morning," she informed him. I'll just be in the next room if you need anything, okay?"

He nodded and for the first time all day, he looked at her apologetically. She shook her head slightly and for what felt like the thousandth time, bitterly forced down her emotions. Lisbon knew that once sober, Jane would probably realise that it was due to her past, due to her father. Dealing with a random drunk off the street, she could do and had done so in the line of duty countless times. But when it came to someone she knew and loved, it was another matter entirely. Jane was testing her to her very limits and it disconcerted her somewhat just how much he was hurting her. Once she closed the door to her bedroom, a single tear fell down her cheek and she wiped it away bitterly. She wasn't a child anymore, she knew she shouldn't allow herself to get worked up over something as inane as a drunk colleague.

When morning arrived, Lisbon wasn't quite sure how much sleep she had managed to obtain. It certainly wasn't a restful night's sleep, that she was certain of. There was a lot on her mind, more than usual, especially considering that work wasn't particularly busy for what felt like the first time in an age. As she stepped into her cold, morning shower, she was relieved that Jane hadn't needed to disturb her. In fact he had been very quiet, suspiciously so. Quickly, she finished up and changed into her work clothing, not bothering with straightening her hair. Tentatively, she left her bedroom, expecting him to jump out her from around any corner.

"Jane?"

After a quick scour of her apartment, she came to the conclusion that he had left of his own accord. Sighing, she grabbed a morning coffee, hoping that that would stop her from thinking about things that even she didn't have the power to change. She couldn't help the fact that her father had turned into an idiotic drunk and she had become the sole carer for four boys at the age of twelve. She couldn't fix Jane's past and stop him from being reckless to the point of suicidal. It didn't stop her questioning every little detail, what she could have done to make her childhood bearable, when did she slip up, why she let Jane continually walk over her. Forgoing breakfast, she headed straight into work, hoping that something would distract her there. Lisbon was relieved to find nobody else in and settled down in front of her computer to try and focus on the work she had meant to do the previous afternoon when she had been too concerned about Jane. She had only just opened the first file when there was a knock at her door.

"Come in," she shouted, absent-mindedly.

Jane walked in, looking suitably shame-faced and significantly better, but that wasn't difficult considering how unkempt he had looked the last time she had seen him. Without a word, she indicated to the seat opposite her, which he took but not without placing a potted purple hyacinth on her desk.

"What the hell?" she muttered. "Jane?"

"I thought you deserved a little something."

"Right."

"I'll leave you to work now."

She blinked owlishly as true to his word, he vacated her office. Normally, she had to either forcibly remove him, or at least hint so heavily that even a sledgehammer was subtle in comparison. She picked up the little pot plant and unfurled the little note attached with string. Two words were written on there in Jane's handwriting. I'm sorry. It wasn't an explanation and Lisbon doubted whether or not she would actually get one. It didn't heal the wounds that he had ripped open either, but it was a start.

end

* * *

**A/N:** In 'flower language', a purple hyacinth means 'I'm sorry' for the record... x tromana


	13. Be careful

**A/N: **I'm considering doing a week's worth of prompts for **dailyfics **on LiveJournal. Question is, do I start next week in celebration of the Mentalist season premiere? Or do I hold off and continue focussing on my newest multiparter, _Unbound_ and _50 Things to Say_? And if I do, do I do table D, E or F, for that matter? Hmm... x tromana  
**  
****

* * *

Title:** Touch  
**Rating:** T  
**Summary:** He'd told her to be careful.  
**Disclaimer:** …nothing's changed. I can't even buy the box set until _January_.  
**Notes:** 50 Phrases: Be careful

**Touch**

The motel was lifeless and dingy, the typical kind of place that people assumed that a murderer would like to hide. Not only was it the most this particular one could probably afford, but it was an establishment that just bred secrets and lies. Lisbon had had to threaten to drag the owners back to Sacramento for a formal questioning to gain access to the room in the first place. They obviously didn't care what happened in their property, just so long as it was all kept under wraps and didn't attract the attention of the police, something this person had obviously failed with dismally. Lisbon knew that they weren't particularly welcome there for that very reason; the CBI could easily find grounds to arrest most the people staying there on some charge or another, but they were here for one specific guy.

"Look, Jane," she hissed, while drawing her gun. "I need you to stay out of here. He's armed and we know that he knows we're coming."

"Just… be careful," he replied.

He knew it sounded dumb, but he couldn't help himself. Lisbon was a cop and she knew what she was doing. Anyway, she had Cho going up there with her for backup and he was as reliable as they came. That didn't stop Jane from sulking in the back of the SUV with Rigsby, however. He didn't like the idea of Lisbon going into a room all guns blazing (almost literally) when a known murderer occupied said room. She nodded at Cho as they crept towards the door.

Everything seemed to happen at once and then, suddenly, nothing. Jane had rushed to the scene when he had heard the first gunshot and stared, dumbfounded as the hardened criminal's knees buckled and he collapsed, dead. Lisbon turned to face him, her eyes shadowed, horrified at what she had had to do yet again. Cho quietly stepped aside and once she had holstered her gun, she collapsed wordlessly into Jane's arms and held onto his jacket for dear life, though there were no tears. She had no need for them. It felt like hours until they parted and Jane only let go of her because he had to.

He only noticed the limp and the tear in her jeans as she walked over to the coroner and Minelli, the mask of professionalism fixed firmly in place once again. Minelli nodded, almost sympathetically in a way, but then again, his softened gaze confirmed Jane's theory that he saw Lisbon as the daughter he never had. That was despite how often he dragged her into his office to berate her for one reason or another. As the body was removed, he took the opportunity to corner her once more; her injury needed tending to and Jane knew that unless he forcibly dealt with her, she would more than likely ignore it until she absolutely had to do something about it.

"It's just a scratch," she mumbled. "Doesn't even hurt."

"Then how come you can't put any weight on the leg?"

As she pouted at him, Jane felt that all too familiar lurch in his heart. Really, she should be banned from pulling such expressions, what with the effect they had on him. However, it wasn't enough to distract him from his ulterior motive. Somehow, he managed to persuade Minelli into allowing him use of his car and minutes later, they were on their way to the ER with her puffing and sighing periodically. He wanted desperately to try and talk to her about exactly what had happened in the motel room, the last time she had shot someone in the line of duty, she had been so hollow for days. Jane suspected that this occasion would be no different and he hated the idea of his Lisbon being so distant.

Jane fretted the whole time she was in surgery. It turned out that her 'scratch' was actually a bullet wedged in her thigh. He couldn't fathom how someone could manage to not notice the fact that they had been shot, but Lisbon could be a mystery on occasion. It took him all manners of persuasion to gain entry into her private room, to watch the rise and fall and rise of her chest as she slept off the anaesthetic. Jane had nowhere else to be and knew that in this situation, sleep would be even more elusive than usual. Somehow, Lisbon managed to even look formidable in her induced sleep, a frown traced across her features, as if she knew that he was present and absolutely did not approve.

"Jane."

Her voice was tight, scratchy and hoarse as she jolted him from his reverie. As his fingers brushed away a stray hair and he helped her to take a sip of water, he felt like he had been burned. Touching her should be forbidden, mainly because the more he did so, the more inclined he is to hold her and never let go. And that was just wrong. It distracted him from the promise he made his first (only?) love and his only child oh so long ago. Yet Lisbon had been having an effect on him and he knew it. Every time he thought of vengeance and the potential aftermath these days, he saw her sorry little face and a tear running down her porcelain skin as she had to clasp handcuffs around his wrists.

"How are you feeling?" he whispered, pulling away quickly.

"Tired. Sore."

Jane nodded in response, though they both know that that wasn't quite what he meant. He was trying to urge her to talk about the fact that she had been forced to take another life. In all probability, she'll never talk about it properly, just share a couple of words with the CBI psychologist, get signed off and bury it the way she has done so every other time. In a month's, or maybe two, time, she would be back to the Lisbon that the team knew and loved, but until then she would battle her emotions alone, like she always had done.

He could tell that she was still suffering when she was discharged from hospital the next morning. But the staff there either didn't seem to particularly care, or Lisbon had just shot them down every time they tried to approach the subject of her mental health. Instead, they just fix up her body and allowed her to leave, satisfied that they had done their job. As she shuffled into the office two hours later, whispering her greetings to the rest of the team, there was a sombre feeling over an occasion that should be jubilant. The relief that she was physically well was paramount in the team's eyes, especially in Cho's, who obviously felt like he had let his boss down. Now, they just had the more difficult wounds to heal.

She stayed at work late, later than her doctor had recommended. They had a new case, however and Lisbon was determined to throw her all into it. Not just because it was her job to do so, but as a form of distraction therapy. She was dreading the appointment was the psychologist in the morning, but it was mandatory. Being forced to talk was something she had always loathed and Lisbon had a well-known stubborn streak which meant she almost always got what she wanted. She didn't particularly like being reliant on others either. The fact that Jane had happily volunteered to drive her back home irked her somewhat, but she knew she wouldn't be capable of driving again for a couple of weeks yet. He had been appearing in her office door hourly, asking when she wanted to leave. Come 8pm, he decided to forcibly remove her from her office and the CBI headquarters. Whatever she said, she still needed her rest and staying at work until the early hours of the morning could only make things worse.

When they arrived at her apartment block, Jane managed to invite himself in. Lisbon wore her typical scowl as he settled her down on the couch and he disappeared into the kitchen to make sure she had a half-decent meal to eat. They remained silent right up until she was preparing to go to bed. Jane knew he couldn't force her to talk, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to try.

"Lisbon, if you need to talk-"

"Damn it, Jane, I don't need to talk, I just need to _feel_."

Jane opened his mouth, not quite realising what she meant.

"No, I don't mean _that_, I just," she sighed, "I just need someone to hold me. For one night. Please?"

He closed his mouth immediately. She had spoken to him so plaintively. Lisbon still had that hollowness of her eyes that had first made its presence known two days before. Time healed, or so they said, but she was practically begging him for help dressed in her simple strap top and pyjama bottoms. As she murmured yet another 'please', he found his heart breaking. It was then that he wasn't surprised to find himself in her bed, fully clothed, with an arm wrapped protectively around her waist. A sad smile found its way to Jane's lips as he felt the fall and rise and fall of her chest. He didn't know how he would be able to let go now.

end


	14. I can't

**A/N: **So yeah, I decided to do the dailyfics challenge on LJ. Just started with a week's worth of prompts. May be more adventurous in the future. As a warning, this is touching on the Mature side of things at the end. Though nothing too graphic, so I'm not sure if I should bump the rating up or not. Not that I think people pay attention to ratings particularly anyway... hm.

This one is dedicated to Frogster, because Lisbon is showing her vulnerable side a bit again.

x tromana

**

* * *

**

**Title: **Memories  
**Rating:** T/M  
**Summary:** Jane's distractions change his relationship with Lisbon somewhat.  
**Disclaimer:** …nope, still not mine.  
**Notes:** 50 Phrases: I can't, LJ **dailyfics** community fic, day 2. Prompt: Nightfall

**Memories**

Teresa Lisbon wasn't normally much of a drinker, but there were times when cases just got to her and she needed to find an outlet of sorts. If they were at home, in Sacramento, she would have hit the streets for a good, hard run, but they weren't. Instead, she holed herself up in a corner of the hotel patio, glass of wine in hand, watching as the sun set. The rest of the team had long since retired to their hotel rooms to watch movies, break into mini-bars and for what she hoped, come nightfall, would be a good night's sleep. She needed them to be fresh and alert come morning, at any rate. The case was still in its infancy and they had plenty of leads to be chasing up.

"A penny for your thoughts?"

She jolted from her reverie, accidentally spilling a little of the deep red contents of her glass over the wooden table. Narrowing her eyes slightly, she took the time to mop it up with a napkin. Lisbon knew that she should have expected Jane to come across her sooner or later; his insomnia was almost as well-known as his grief over the death of his family. He smiled that typical sunny smile of his, the one that never quite met the corners of his eyes as he took the seat opposite her. She sighed; there was no point in telling him to go away as he never listened to her anyway. Even when it mattered. The amount of times she had had to save his sorry ass of late was unbelievable. No wonder her paperwork always seemed like it was multiplying like bacteria.

"What do you want Jane?"

"Oh, lots of things," he replied airily. "A drink would be nice, maybe some sleep…"

"What do you want with _me_ right now?"

"To know what's troubling you."

Her eyes suddenly became fixated on the rim of the glass as her finger danced around it. Lisbon could feel his eyes on her, watching her every move as he often tended to do so. When she first met Jane, it had unnerved her somewhat, but she had grown used to his attention, even if it did still make her feel uncomfortable at times. And did she really want to launch into a discussion about the nights that her parents died? Both days had been perfectly nice, but they were marred by the evenings. Blackened nights that were welcomed in by blood red skies. She shuddered slightly and gulped at her drink. The sun was still on the horizon. It felt like it was going to be another one of those nights.

"The case?"

She nodded in response and placed the glass back down, for fear of making a fool out of herself yet again. The victim had been an alcoholic father of three. To the untrained eye, it would have been dismissed as suicide, but in reality it was blindingly obvious that there was more to it than that.

"My mother died on a night like this. In a car crash."

His fingers entwined around hers and for once, she didn't pull away. A sad smile replaced the bright one in a flash.

"I know."

"I don't want to talk about it," she added quickly.

"Talking can help."

"Hypocrite."

Jane stood and pulled Lisbon to her feet. The sun had almost set and frankly, he didn't like the idea of her sitting alone, drinking herself into a stupor. Not that she would ever do that; his Lisbon was far too sensible and far too level-headed to do such a thing. She remained mute for a while, but he knew that curiosity would soon get the better of her. Either that or her impatience. It didn't matter which she succumbed to first, both would have the same result.

"Where are we going?" she eventually sighed."Red sky at night, shepherd's delight," he mused, out loud. "It's a beautiful sunset, isn't it?"

"Why are you quoting proverbs at me?" she asked. "And what the hell does it mean anyway?"

"That it's meant to be a lovely day tomorrow."

She snorted. "Every morning after a particularly impressive sunset has always been particularly bad for me."

"We need to do something about that," he declared.

"Jane…"

He had gone mad, she decided. Completely and utterly mad. Sure, he had his sweet moments, but usually his underlying sadness was still obvious. It was what made him so attractive to the countless number of widows they had dealt with. The fact that they could just tell that he knew what they were going through was enough. Still, she followed him onto the beach where he promptly pulled off his ugly shoes and encouraged her to do the same. Lisbon couldn't help but smile slightly as her foot sank into the soft sand. She hadn't been on a beach for pleasure for years, mainly because she just didn't seem to have the time. The walk was good, relaxing. She didn't need to talk to be able to enjoy Jane's company.

"You're smiling," Jane noted.

"Yes, I am."

"You look beautiful when you're smiling."

Jane stated it so matter-of-factly and with such honesty that Lisbon found herself having to stop walking. That admission was unexpected to phrase it politely, but what surprised her more was to find that his hand was gently stroking her cheek as his blue-green eyes stared directly into hers. Seconds later, she found him kissing her tenderly and as much as she wanted to melt into his touch, she had to pull away.

"Jane, Patrick… I can't… we can't…"

"Why not?"

He looked so forlorn that she immediately felt the guilt set in and once again, she found herself looking for anything to distract her from looking at him. After a while, she focussed on the reflected moonlight on the ocean.

"You still love your wife," she murmured. "I'm sorry, I have to go."

She tried to ignore the tears building up in her eyes and rushed away. Lisbon knew that a relationship with him wouldn't be forbidden by the CBI, not because she had checked, but because she knew the rulebook back to front. It was their damn emotions that had stopped their flirting from becoming anything but that. They were both aware of just how broken they were as individuals. Once in her hotel room, she flopped down in frustration upon the bed. A night that she had intended to spend quietly reflecting on the loss of her parents had somehow turned to a night where she was debating where her already fragile friendship with Jane was going. She couldn't quite decide which was worse. Lisbon cursed at herself; she had just known that the sunset was going to signify something, again.

"Teresa, I know you're in there."

She jerked her head in the direction of the door, quickly noting the use of her given name. She hadn't even noticed his insistent tapping upon the door. Eventually, she padded across to it and unlocked it. Jane's persistence meant that if she didn't bother letting him in, she wouldn't get any sleep. It was better to hear him out then attempt to ignore him. Nodding at her, he stepped through the open door and closed it behind him.

"I can," he started, swallowing deeply. "I can love you both. If you can, I mean…"

Lisbon couldn't help but laugh slightly as the words tumbled out of his mouth. Obviously, Jane had tried preparing what he was going to say and it was all going wrong. Gently, she placed her index finger across his lips before covering them with her own. An arm travelled around her waist while his other hand ran its way through her soft, dark hair. Gently, he indicated to her bed and nodding slightly, she stumbled backwards and collapsed upon it, pulling him down on top of her.

"Are you sure?" he murmured, "we can't take this back if we do."

She nodded in response and his lips found her bare shoulder while her hands disappeared up his shirt. Layer by layer, they slowly, painfully stripped each other of clothing. As each piece found its way to the floor, he asked for permission. Jane in reality was far more nervous than the one she had unashamedly fantasised about for the past couple of years, but he more than made up for it in sweetness. Both of them were disconcerted somewhat at how fast everything was moving. In reality, they had been playing games with each other and dancing a tentative dance for so long that it felt natural. As he explored her body, fingers and tongue finding soft skin that hadn't ever been exposed to him before, he managed to shelve the guilt. By the time he cried out Teresa's name later, it had dissipated entirely. As he wrapped his arms around her sweat slicked body to settle down for the rest of the night, he could only hope that she didn't feel guilty too.

As the sun peeked through the curtains, Lisbon smiled contentedly to herself. She hadn't expected Jane to still have an arm casually wrapped around her come morning. But then again, she hadn't exactly expected him to join her for the night at all. Red sky at night, shepherd's delight, indeed. For the first time in her life, she was beginning to think that the shepherds may actually have a point.

end


	15. Keep fighting

**Title: **Vigil  
**Rating:** T  
**Summary:** He's counted the days, hours, minutes, since she has been like this.  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine.  
**Notes:** 50 Phrases: keep fighting, LJ **dailyfics** community fic, day 4. Prompt: light

**Vigil**

Carefully, he extended a finger and gently allowed it to stroke along her exposed arm. A wry smile traced across his lips as he imagined the way she probably would have snatched it back with a withering glare if she were conscious. She'd been unconscious for a good month now and her doctors appeared to have no idea as to when, or even if, Teresa Lisbon would ever wake up again. Patrick Jane had been keeping watch for much of that time. He had counted the days, hours, minutes, since she has been like this and he didn't like the way that each number was getting larger and larger with no end in sight. Jane glanced up as he heard the door creak open. He had got to the stage where he could virtually ignore the various bleeps and flashes of the machinery, all of which was keeping her alive. Keeping her with him. So long as there wasn't any change in the frequency of the noise or bright lights, he knew that he could breathe a little easier.

"How is she?"

"No change."

"She'd want you to try and sleep, at least," Van Pelt murmured, placing a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "This isn't doing either of you any good."

Jane glanced quickly at his watch. He hadn't realized just how late that it had gotten. The bright lights and closed blinds of the private hospital room had extinguished his perception of the passage of time. Van Pelt's fingers tightened around his shoulder as his gaze remained firmly fixed on Lisbon, watching the rise and fall of her chest, still being controlled by the ventilator. With a sigh, he nodded. While he didn't want to leave his lonely vigil, Van Pelt did have a point.

"You just… keep fighting okay?" he whispered, stroking her cheek gently, carefully avoiding all the wires and tubing. "We… I need you. So you better hurry up and get better. You've been asleep for way too long now."

If she noticed the tear coursing its way down Jane's cheek, Van Pelt didn't mention it. Instead, she lead him through dimly lit corridors in silence and out of the hospital. It wasn't a chore any of them particularly liked doing, but she, Rigsby and Cho were taking turns in dragging Jane out of there. They felt guilty because they were leaving Lisbon alone for the night yet again, but really did she even know she had company in the first place? And they had to remind him that despite the fact that their boss was sick, gravely so, the criminals didn't stop. They needed him to do his job to bring about justice for others. Though she didn't like putting words into the mouths of others, Van Pelt could be fairly certain that that was something Lisbon would want.

"She might wake up tomorrow?" she ventured.

Jane stared up at the moonlight. So much like the night that it had all started.

"Maybe," he mused. "I hope so."

"We all do."

***

Lisbon turned to look at Jane, having heard his foot break a twig. Her green eyes grew wide as the bullet pierced her skin and Jane froze as she collapsed. She looked him directly in the eyes and all he can see is just how fearful she looks. Her head collided with the ground heavily, a thump echoing around the copse they were trapped in. Desperately, he tried to move from the spot but he was stuck and all he could do was stare at her prone body as she slowly bled out. His knees eventually buckled with a crack and as he too fell, he could hear a maniacal laugh taunting him.

He gasped as he awoke from the nightmare. It was new, in the sense that he had only been having it for the past month rather than having experienced it almost nightly for years. That doesn't mean it's welcome relief from the other one, if anything it's worse. It constantly reminded him of the simple fact that he could potentially lose someone else he cared about due to his own folly. Jane tried to regulate his breathing as he recollected his thoughts. Lisbon wasn't going to die. She was too strong to let something as silly as a shooting take her. At least it hadn't been the one where she fell from a tall building and he'd failed to catch her…

***

"How is he?" Rigsby piped up as Cho entered the bullpen.

"Same as usual."

"And Lisbon?" Van Pelt queried.

"No change," Cho muttered. "If she dies, it'll kill him."

Van Pelt pulled a pained expression. "Don't talk like that. She won't die. She can't."

***

The first thing that she noticed was the sensation of choking, quickly followed by loud noises, people shouting and as she tried to open her eyes, a blinding light. After an eerie state of nothingness for so long, suddenly everything was happening at once and it threatened to overwhelm Lisbon until she felt familiar fingertips grasping hold of her hand. It was quite some time before she realized just where she was and why she was there. She held onto his hand as tightly as she could, though not really having enough energy for more than just a gentle squeeze.

Over the course of the next twenty-four hours, she had numerous tentative visitors, all wearing very similar expressions of relief. Jane remained reassuringly constant, informing each one of the sea of faces that he would try his best to ensure that she didn't 'try to run before she could walk'. Her trademark withering glare came as a relief to anyone on the receiving end. For the first time in far too long, they can believe that they are going to be getting their Lisbon back.

***

Lisbon couldn't wait to be discharged from hospital. As far as she was concerned, she had already wasted well over a month lying down when there was work to be done. It also frustrated her just how quickly she tired out at times since the incident but she knew that it was going to take time to rebuild her stamina. Patience had never been Lisbon's forte and she, along with everyone else, suspected it never would be. Yes, she can understand the importance of playing the long game but on those occasions she merely tolerates the waiting game. Waiting to get better wasn't something that came naturally to her.

It didn't surprise anyone when Jane moved in with her when she finally was discharged. When it came to mother-hen tendencies, he was almost as bad as Lisbon herself was. He actually managed to do some work, with a smile on his face and a spring in his step. The team would laugh affectionately at his tales of her overdoing herself and smile warmly at the fact he was so happy to have someone to go home to. Her first day back at work was entertaining to say the least, with him threatening to handcuff her to her seat if she tried anything too strenuous. She simply glowered, hoping that she could reinstate her authority sooner rather than later.

And nobody asked if Jane was ever going to bother moving out again. The idea that he would never crossed any of their minds. In fact, they were simply waiting for them to announce that they were either in a relationship or already engaged.

end


	16. Forget it

**A/N: SPOILERS FOR 2.01 REDEMPTION**

Now that's out of the way... this one is longer than usual. Yay! Hoping that this is a sign that the mild writer's block I've been suffering from is gone now. Despite that, I'm still on a vulnerable!Lisbon kick. Not sure how long that's going to last for. If it's anything like the Red John and Taylor Swift kicks I previously had, I should be finding a new one soon...

Anyway, this one is dedicated to **IGottaFindYou** who kindly went back and reviewed every oneshot I've written for this collection to date. Thank you so very much, it was an amazing surprise for me to wake up to and talking to you as you read was a joy.

Now for the fic...

x tromana

**Title: **Little Girl Lost  
**Rating:** T  
**Summary:** Despite her cool, calm, collected exterior, she has always felt small, fragile. Like a little girl lost.  
**Disclaimer:** Still not mine.  
**Spoilers: **2.01 Redemption  
**Notes:** 50 Phrases: forget it

**Little Girl Lost**

_There is a reason why Teresa Lisbon hates relinquishing control, why she has an almost neurotic desire for order and why she tries desperately to follow the rules to the letter. It's not that she's boring, nor such a straight arrow that she simply cannot conceive working in any other way, it is simply because she has to. She clings to her rules and regulations like she's drowning and they are her only hope for survival. Life has never bothered to deal her a kind hand. From her early childhood, it has been full of upheaval and cruel blows, especially whenever she believes she is finally, finally getting on track. Despite her cool, calm, collected exterior, she has always felt small, fragile. Like a little girl lost._

_She can still remember the day that her mother died. She had been watching from the kerbside as her mother expertly avoided a toddler running out into the street but successfully wrapped the car around a tree instead. In hindsight, she felt sorry for her teacher, having to hold back a hysterical twelve year old as the paramedics worked on her mother. The poor woman must have received several bruises and scratches as she restrained Teresa, never mind the fact she too was watching on in horror as one of her students lost a beloved parent in such a violent, pointless manner. _

_Worse still, was watching her father's descent into alcoholism. Why would a grieving husband listening to a child imploring that he stopped drinking, if only for one night? As the years rolled on, he became increasingly less interested in the welfare of his family and increasingly more interested in where he could get the money for his next bottle of drink. Her father had never been a violent man before her mother's accident and before the drink took hold, but that changed over time too. Occasionally, it got to the extent where he would lash out against his offspring, using a belt to thrash them if they didn't hand over their scant savings. She spent night after night dealing with cuts and bruises that her younger brothers had received, stoically ignoring any wounds that she had picked up herself. _

_After her father passed on, she and her brothers were taken into care. The boys immediately blamed her for the fact that they were separated and stubbornly refused to reply to her letters and answer her telephone calls. She had tried desperately to explain that it wasn't her fault, that she had tried absolutely everything she could to keep them together. She had felt like she was trying desperately to hold everything together but she physically couldn't, it was like they were particles of sand falling between her fingers. Like they were drifting on tides, being pulled in different directions and there was absolutely nothing she could do._

Lisbon let out a strangled sob as Jane slipped her blouse off her shoulders to inspect the knife wound. He had taken charge of her the moment that Cho had informed them they had received a confession. Initially, she had tried to resist his ministrations but failed dismally as he guided her into her own office and shut the door and blinds as if it were his private space rather than hers. Jane touching her was wrong, they were only colleagues and certainly couldn't, wouldn't become anything else. Even the very idea of it was too… complicated. Anyway, she could tell the gash wasn't deep and didn't really need much treatment mainly because she had managed to disarm the suspect quickly, even if she hadn't been quite quick enough. But he had insisted and if she couldn't be so sure, she may have suspected that hypnotism had came into play. Her temporary lapse of concentration hadn't helped either.

"Lisbon?" Jane whispered, his fingers gently running against the white, rough patch of skin rather than her newest wound. A horrible, raging blemish against her otherwise perfect complexion. "Where did you get the scar from?"

"Forget it, Jane," she snapped, finally coming back to her senses and away from her dreams. Her nightmares, even.

Hastily, she pulled her shirt back over her shoulder, covering up the bare skin that Jane had been fixated on. Cocking her head slightly, she stared at Jane indicating that she was expecting him to reply, that she knew what his reply would be, even. After all, he was Patrick Jane and being nosy was one of the things that he did best.

"I can't do that," he murmured.

That was just the response she had expected of him. At least he wasn't telling her what she was thinking, how she was feeling and what had happened to her so long ago.

"You can and you will."

"Fine, for now," he grumbled, "but let me deal with your wound. It needs disinfecting at the very least."

Mumbling under her breath slightly, she turned so her back faced him again. Slowly and tenderly, he removed the article of clothing that was covering her injury again. He attempted to ignore the scars as he cleaned away drying blood and placed disinfectant-sodden cotton wool to the wound, which she responded to with a pained hiss. As his fingers danced over her pale skin, all he could think of was that somebody had had the audacity to hurt his Lisbon. How anyone could think of doing something like that was beyond him, but then again, he had more than a little soft spot for the fierce little lady.

"Thank you," she said tactfully as she pulled her clothing back on, relieved that she was able to cover up again. "It wasn't necessary."

"Nonsense."

Lisbon quickly indicated that Jane should leave, but naturally he ignored her. They both took their usual seats in her office, staring stubbornly at one another across the desk. Jane didn't want to leave without answers and Lisbon had thrown up her barriers, as expected. He went to grab her hand, he wanted to let his fingers dance over hers soothingly, in attempted to calm her down. However, typically, she snatched it out of his reach with a hardened glare.

"You need to open up more, woman," Jane spoke lightly. "What happened to you?""They're old scars, Jane and that's how they're going to stay. I don't need to talk to you."

"Oh yes, I forgot. You trust your _shrink_ more than me."

He spat out the word 'shrink' with as much venom as he could muster. Lisbon recoiled slightly before regaining her composure. She wasn't about to let Jane guilt-trip her into talking about her past, however much he wanted to know about it. He was never meant to see the scar, never mind anything else. Though he prided himself on knowing her well, there were some things that she kept secret for a reason. Even if it was partially because she simply didn't want to have people seeing her like she was a victim still. Because she wasn't, not anymore, however much she felt like one at times. Anyway, Lisbon didn't like the fact that she had had to see a therapist of late and certainly didn't like being reminded of it by Jane. The whole idea of sitting down and talking to someone, telling them your innermost thoughts when you barely knew them seemed absurd and more than a little pointless. It wasn't as if they cared that you never really had the time to mourn the death of your mother or the fact that your father had beaten the living hell out of you just to get money for a drink when you were a kid. Never mind that you were finding it hard to come to terms with the fact that your irritating, capricious, annoyingly handsome consultant saved your life over maintaining a link to the serial killer he wanted to butcher.

"Well, is it hardly surprising? Look at our previous case. I tell you to play it straight and not only do you do the complete opposite behind my back, you wilfully pull Rigsby and Cho into your games," she snapped in response.

"Solved the case, didn't it?"

"Not the point."

"I thought that the whole point of your job was maintaining the law and putting 'bad guys where they won't hurt others' as Cho phrased it."

"Yes. But without cutting corners and in a legal manner," she replied sharply, "however boring you may find it."

"You're not going to budge on that, are you?"

"No, I'm not."

"Or start talking?"

"No," she answered, before quickly glancing at her watch. She looked at the files in front of her. They could wait until morning. "I'm going home now. We've got the confession; there's nothing else we need to do tonight."

_Lisbon had been thrilled when she joined the CBI and was more than aware of just how hard she was going to have to work to catch the eye of those higher up. With a shy smile, she had shook the hand of Agent Bosco, who she was informed would be in charge of her training. She was rather pleased about this; according to everyone she talked to, he was an excellent agent, tough but fair. As far as she had been concerned, learning from him would be a privilege. _

_She'd been shocked to find he wasn't quite as straight-shooting as she had anticipated. What he had suggested they do had horrified her slightly, but being a relatively naïve rookie, she had agreed. Lisbon hadn't wanted to cross her new boss within the first month of working under him, even if his suggestion had been, well, illegal to say the very least. It was only several months after the incident when she realised she might have just seriously compromised her future career. When she found out that Bosco had requested her transfer, part of her was saddened but a larger part, relieved. Not only was she being moved into a more important position, but she felt that the incident was less likely to become public knowledge. _

When she arrived home, she went about her usual routine, though strangely full of thought. Again, Lisbon decided it was the fault of the damn therapist; he was the one who was dredging up all these unpleasant memories for reasons that were beyond her. If she was happy with having closed them off, really, what was the problem? And the more she was thinking about them, the more likely that a certain consultant was likely to find out about them. Surely it would be better telling Jane on her own terms, rather than having him just finding out anyway? That way she could control what she told him and leave out (minor) details. Such as the entire Bosco fiasco. So, it was giving into him, but she might feel better with more of it out in the open. It had been years since she trusted a… friend… enough to tell them about her father. Swallowing deeply, she grabbed her cell phone before she changed her mind and dialled a number she had long since memorised. As she heard the ringing, she told herself it was sensible, that it would make her feel somewhat less like a small girl who was scared of the world and more mature woman who could discuss her issues in a rational manner.

"Jane?"

Lisbon briefly questioned why she was asking. It was his cell phone number she had dialled after all, so it was highly unlikely to be anyone else answering it. As she cradled the phone in the crook of her neck, she allowed her hands to run through the soapy water to wash the dishes. The action was surprisingly soothing.

"Hi Lisbon," he responded almost immediately. "Have we got a new case?"

"I'm ready to talk," she responded. "But only if you are."

end


	17. Don't do that

**A/N: **Warning for major character death. And my plot bunnies have decided to drag me down the creepy route again. When I say creepy, I mean creepy. It's bad, even for me. I've had this idea vaguely floating around for a good month or so and ch19777's fic, **Flirt**, has helped inspire me to actually write it. Thanks, I think… x tromana

**Title:** Click, Click  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon, team  
**Disclaimer:** Still not owning it. I'm very good at that.  
**Summary:** Even though she doesn't know it yet, you're still overwhelmingly protective of her, as you always have been. As you always will be.  
**Notes:** 50 Phrases: Don't do that. Written for the Jello Forever October challenge. Prompt: Frozen in time.

**Click, Click**

Click, click goes the camera. You still can't believe that the state is being protected by such naïve people.

But once you are back in your domain, you can't help but smile. You've printed out their pictures a countless number of times and they surround you at all times now. The situation at which the photographs have been taken differ: at work, at play, in more… intimate… situations, it doesn't bother you, or your wife for that matter. Every part of their life is documented in your little shrine to them. They'd have a field day if they ever found out about this. You allow your index finger to trace over the photograph in front of you. It's the clearest of the bunch and you can see the expressions on each of their faces. They stare wordlessly back out at you as your finger briefly freezes on the red-headed woman contemplatively, before dancing over, as always, to the petite brunette. Teresa Lisbon is a lovely little thing and there is a lot of regret where she is concerned. Even though she doesn't know it yet, you're still overwhelmingly protective of her, as you always have been. As you always will be.

You're still proud of _her_ and her team. She's come a long way and she deserves it. The people she has assembled around her are generally good people and at least semi-competent. Even so, it still baffles you how they cannot even notice the incessant click of a camera, recording their every movement time after time. All of them are completely oblivious, even he who believes that he is oh so observant. But then again, he shouldn't be there at all. He isn't a detective and never will be. That impetuous thorn in your side has somehow wormed his way into the CBI and onto countless crime scenes. He should have learned how to let go, but it doesn't surprise you that he hasn't. How can you approve of a charlatan being around that beautiful little woman you love so much? Patrick Jane certainly doesn't deserve to be within her company. You've taken matters into your own hands once before where he's concerned and it scares you that you might have to do it again. She doesn't seem that bothered, though. On the contrary, your pictures of them together appear to show that they relish in one another's company.

Patrick Jane is going to be the death of her. Really, he is.

Click, click go her high heels on the parquet floor. She's uncomfortable in the shoes and anyone who knows her well enough can tell.

It's obvious that this is the part of the job she is least keen on. As far as she is concerned, it is her duty to solve the crime and catch the killer, not to sentence them. Giving evidence in court is obviously tedious to her, especially as her comfortable pants and blouse are not 'formal' enough for the charade. Still, she does her job as efficiently as ever and it won't be long until she can head back to the comfort and the security of the CBI headquarters. Dear, little Teresa always seems far more comfortable there. You're pleased that she is happy enough in her professional life, it's better than nothing, after all. Her life could have been so depressing after everything that happened when she was young. You curse at the realisation that that is probably partially your fault, at the very least. But you couldn't help it. Your wife had returned to you and who are you to deny the request of your soul mate?

You flash her a friendly smile from across the court room and she cocks her head at you inquisitively. She doesn't recognise you, but that's hardly surprising. It's been decades since she saw you last and you're not quite sure where the time went. She was tiny back then, even smaller than she is now. People probably still joke about the implausibility of that with her, much to her chagrin. She has always been a little sensitive about her height, though she would try to deny it. You remember trying to comfort her as she cried desperately about the bullies at school, never knowing quite what to say. Her mother was always so much better at that than you and it was always a blessed relief to you that the other kids were all big, strong boys.

You wonder if you should approach her, but it's complicated. Not only does she think you're dead, as far as she's concerned, you're a serial killer who should be behind bars and if she should come across you, she wouldn't hesitate in arresting you. Or even shooting to kill if she had to protect herself or her team.

Click, click goes the top of the ball-point pen. You've always liked the sound of them, you find it reassuring.

The pen dances across the piece of paper, apparently with practised ease and it's like you're creating poetry in motion. However, it isn't long until you stop, frown and screw it up yet again. There's something wrong with what you're writing; it isn't up to your usual eloquent standard, but that may be the fact that only recently you have found out that _your daughter _is in charge of the team after you. For some reason, you've always assumed that the case had been someone else's. You're not stupid, you know that some people would view what you do as wrong. Anyway, Teresa's too young, too precious to be fighting the hardened criminals and putting herself in danger. It takes you a while each and every time to remind yourself that she isn't your little girl anymore, she's a grown woman now. Each time you try to write this note for the police to leave at the crime scene you want to confess to everything, just to see her face properly again. The frozen images that surround you are not enough and neither are the small glimpses of her you capture when you dare. Your wife places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, informing you not to worry. There will be time for that in the future, there's preparations to be made before then.

Again, you screw up the piece of paper and toss it in the direction of the others. It'll be used as kindling for a fire tonight, so it isn't entirely going to waste. And, more importantly, it renders anything that could be used as 'evidence' to ash. You briefly wonder exactly what Teresa's grandparents told her after you left. You know that they said you'd died, you had attempted to listen in on the conversation, after all and you heard the tears that had spilled from her eyes. How much she has missed you, you'll never know but you were never the best of fathers to her, especially after your wife left you for that brief yet terrifying while. It was probably hard on her, harder than the boys at any rate and she probably resents you for it. But sacrifices had to be made in order to please your wife. She is aware of this too, which is why you both have a vested interest in your daughter now, rather than any of your sons back east.

Perhaps you can phrase your words carefully enough to give your baby girl hope? You are an excellent wordsmith after all and dual meanings are a particular forte of yours. The words suddenly come far more naturally once again.

Click, click goes the button on the mouse. You realise you probably should have bugged her office a long time ago.

You try not to think about all the information on Teresa you've missed out on by not pursuing this idea earlier. The promotions she has received, the cases she's worked on, the boys, men even, that she has dated. But that's a thing of the past now and you swear not to miss out on a detail of your daughter's life from now on. Words are so much more useful than the still images you have collected over the past couple of years. They say a picture paints a thousand words and that is true to some extent, but it is also possible to read an image wrongly. A voice will fail you far less frequently. Besides, it's nice to hear what she sounds like now and reassuring to hear the calm, collected woman she has become despite the problems in her early life.

There's someone else in her office now and they're bickering. It doesn't take you long to work out that it's that capricious consultant of hers, Jane. Mainly because she barks his name out, laced with venom, as he slams her door shut. They fall silent and you gasp with horror when she eventually gasps for air. You knew they were close, that was blindingly obvious. But that close? It hadn't even crossed your mind. The red-head and Rigsby had been caught on your camera in compromising positions on a number of occasions, but never your daughter. She had always appeared to be the epitome of professionalism. There is no way you can approve of this and your wife nods in agreement. Your daughter is being corrupted by that idiot and everyone around them is blind to it. If you were able to, you would march right up to her and tell her just how much you disapproved. But you can't do that, however much you wish you could.

"Don't do that," Teresa murmurs, "we're at work."

Jane quickly complains in response. Obviously she has hit him too, probably affectionately. Your wife whispers something in your ear and you nod in agreement sadly. You hadn't expected it to come to this.

Click, click goes the key in her front door. It had been laughably easy getting hold of her spare set of keys.

_They're_ out. Patrick Jane has taken her out on a date. The mere idea that he is sleeping with the woman who was your little girl sickens you to your stomach. You wander around her modest apartment, knowing you have a good couple of hours to wait. Either, she's recently moved in here or she simply hasn't had the time to unpack all the boxes. It makes you smile as you notice that she still isn't particularly tidy but the lack of photographs saddens you. There are only three on display. One of Teresa with her brothers, another with her and the team - her new 'family' and unsurprisingly, one of her with Jane. There's a ring on the fourth finger of her left hand, something you hadn't noticed before. You curse at this latest development; you should have been keeping an eye on them more while procuring access to her apartment. Should have kept up to date with your photographs and your bugs. It's your own fault that you didn't know this.

Your wife's arm drapes around your shoulders and reminds you that in your bag there is your friend. You can see it glinting out at you in moonlight haze. It has been a while since you needed her, but justice has to be done. All the evidence you've gathered has been pointing increasingly in one direction: this isn't your daughter. Either Teresa's been corrupted to the extent that she is unrecognisable or she never was your daughter in the first place. Then again, she had always been a bit of a Mommy's girl so that really wasn't that surprising. Whatever the reason, she absolutely cannot be responsible for the safety of the general public in the state of California. This woman has been screwed about in the head with by Patrick Jane, he who believed he could pull the wool over the eyes of the country. He who believed he could take on you and your wife and win.

A car pulls up outside and she bids Jane farewell at the door. He complains loudly, but she's insistent that he goes to his own home. You're relieved that she's so persuasive. She gets to be reacquainted with Daddy all on her own.

Click, click goes the safety catch on her gun. Teresa looks like a rabbit caught in the headlights as she stares at you, your friend and down the barrel of her own gun in her lounge.

You're relieved that your wife is at your side instead of her daughter's. It was her who told you that Teresa left her gun on her bedside table when off-duty. You can't have her shooting you, it just doesn't work that way. She doesn't seem to realise that her mother is with you too. Then again, she doesn't even recognise you, not even from that court case that you both attended a couple of years ago. It's offensive, really. As you back Teresa towards a wall, you explain that you are her father and that all you've ever wanted is the best for her. She vehemently denies it, crowing about how you died when she was sixteen. You sheath the knife and slap her silly, trying to get her to say hello to her Mommy too. Her eyes widen and you can tell she's convinced that you're mad.

Your mind is running at ten to the dozen. Is your wife's plan really necessary? Teresa is obviously still just a scared little girl, she's not capable of the evils that the woman you love believes she is, is she? Somehow, you can hear your wife berating you, but you hadn't vocalised those opinions. At least, you're fairly certain you didn't. Teresa is trembling in front of you and you don't know whether or not you should be comforting her and getting rid of your wife instead. Your fingers clench around your knife, your most faithful of friends. What should you say? What should you do?

A few more comforting words and you nod in agreement. Okay, you'll do this. But only for her. After all, without your wife, you would have gone mad so long ago.

Slash, slash goes the knife across her chest. Your eyes widen slightly as Teresa collapses to the floor, heaving her final breath and still managing to glare at you defiantly until her eyes flutter shut.

The fact that she isn't, wasn't really the daughter you once knew is surprisingly little comfort as you dip your fingers into the warm blood seeping slowly from her neck. You swear a tear falls down your cheek as the digits make contact with the wall, slowly drawing out your symbol.

You find it impossible to move for a while. You're not quite sure how long. It could have been five seconds, could have been five minutes, possibly even longer. Maybe now is the time to give it all up, you ask. Your wife says no. There's still work to be done.

Patrick Jane still has to pay penance for what he has done. This time, it's even more personal.

Click, click go the handcuffs around your wrists. Little Teresa had been so very clever, even as she was about to die.

She had Agent Cho on speed-dial and he had heard everything. While he got there quick enough to catch you and your wife, (though he, too, failed to acknowledge her existence), he hadn't got there soon enough to save Teresa's life. If it wasn't illegal, you're fairly certain that Cho would have killed you in an act of vengeance because you murdered the boss he admired so much. Instead, he and Agent Rigsby drag you down to the CBI HQ, where you will be questioned by Virgil Minelli. You don't see the other two members of the little team; obviously the loss of Teresa is too much for them to be able to bear looking you in the eye right now.

They play you back the telephone call, explaining what 'Lisbon' had done. There's a sombre feeling in the room, in the entire building. It's almost like the entire institution of the California Bureau of Investigation is in mourning for one feisty little agent. None of them understand what a monster your daughter had turned into. Only your wife does and she stands beside you, gripping your shoulder and glaring at Minelli and Cho. Their questioning is relentless. They ask you over and over about someone called Red John, they talk about your motif and how it has become associated with him and almost beg to know why you killed so many people. Why you killed Teresa. You can't give them the answers they want, whatever way they phrase the question.

Eventually, they just call for a doctor.

Clang, clang goes the door to your secluded hospital room. You're being kept under lock and key, for the safety of yourself and others, apparently.

You haven't seen your wife in a while. It's rather rude of her, you believe.

Your physician thinks you're mad. She calls it schizophrenia.

Maybe you _are_ mad?

end

**A/N:** *gulps* I don't have a clue what's going on with my plot bunnies at the moment. Just for the record, Lisbon _is_ my favourite character and I absolutely adore her. Why I'm so cruel to her in fanfic, I'll never know. But what can I say? Love's cruel...


	18. I hate you

**A/N: **Ugh, I don't like my latest kick. Killing off characters is an, um, interesting one to have, I think.

This is for twin - she inspired it with the first part of her oneshot collection Thanatopsis. Go read.

This one is fairly brief for this collection, but I feel like adding more will ruin it.

x tromana

* * *

**Title:** Remember  
**Author:** tromana  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon  
**Disclaimer:** Still not mine  
**Summary:** There's many he could choose from, really. Too many, almost. He's spoilt for choice.  
**Notes:** 50 Phrases: I hate you. Written for the Jello Forever October challenge. Prompt: Frozen in time.  
**Warnings:** Major character death

**Remember**

If he could freeze a moment in his mind forever, he knows exactly which one he would choose.

There's many he could choose from, really. Too many, almost. He's spoilt for choice.

After all, there's the moment when they first met. When she stormed into Virgil Minelli's office in a blaze of fury. Without even resorting to raising her voice, she managed to convey her opinions eloquently and angrily, with her eyes saying everything that she wanted to vocalise but was inappropriate in her current company. Her words were still surprisingly callous and cruel and even when Minelli, with a wry smile, introduced them to one another, she didn't bother to back-track. It seemed she believed she meant each and every word and he couldn't help but respect her just a little for that.

Or, possibly, the day he acknowledged his attraction to her. She had been fuming but he hadn't meant to cause the death of the key suspect, really he hadn't. But she had been exhausted, having spent forty-eight hours straight awake, chasing up endless leads and finding a frustrating number of dead ends. As she looked on at the dead body, her eyes narrowed and she just glared at him. If looks could kill, she would have killed him a thousand times over. That time, however, while her voice had said 'I hate you', her body language screamed 'I love you.' Regardless of what she liked to believe, she had always been terribly translucent.

There was also their wedding day. She had looked positively radiant in her ivory gown, being shadowed by Van Pelt, who was elegant as always, in green. He didn't think it physically possible for her smile to grow any wider as she walked down the aisle in front of their colleagues and friends. His heart had lurched terribly as she recited the vows that they had written themselves and he had buried the emotions regarding the previous time he had stood at a church altar with a woman in white. A few years before, the concept of being happy again had been foreign to him. They were never blessed with children, however and secretly it has always relieved him somewhat. It was something they never really discussed, but he's still fairly certain it caused some level of heartbreak for her.

It's too late to ask now, anyway.

But that's besides the point. Today isn't for thinking of what should have been, what could have been. It is for remembering. Someone is droning on about something and he can't quite hear what they're saying. Doesn't really matter, anyway. This is all for show, because it's what people expect to happen. People reminisce for a day, talk about how wonderful someone was, how much of a terrible loss it is to society, to the world and then proceed to forget them. Their memories stagnate because they don't have the visual prompt to remind them. He'd already decided that he wasn't going to let that happen. He couldn't. It's what he owes to her at the very least.

He's decided that their defining moment is the time when she saved him from himself. He can still remember it clear as day.

Her striding into a life-threatening situation with her head held high.

The way she wrestled the weapon out of his hand.

Placed handcuffs around the wrists of his enemy and shoved the bastard roughly in the direction of their team mates.

Slapped him silly to bring him to his senses.

Pressed her lips firmly to his to remind him that he was still part of the land of the living.

If she hadn't saved him, he doubts that anyone else would. Nobody else would have had the time or the relentless energy to even bother to do so.

She never gave up hope in him.

The distant memory of that day may have been frozen in the past for everyone else, but to him it's as vivid as it would be if it had happened yesterday.

He laughs slightly and irate faces look at the doddery old man he has become, angry at the fact that he is breaking the mood. But she was his wife and if he isn't allowed to remember at a time like this, then when is he allowed to do so? He has millions of memories of her locked away in his minds' eye so there's no need for him to choose, not really. Unlike many of his age, he can be thankful that he has survived this long with all of his faculties intact and therefore he can remember her as she was. That just doesn't stop him having his favourites, the ones that defined them as individuals and a couple.

Half an hour later, arthritic fingers crumble dirt onto the wooden coffin and a heavy, salted tear joins it too. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. She's the second wife he's outlived now. It's a bittersweet thought to think that he should be joining her soon.

end


	19. Too late

**A/N: **I thought it was about time I finished this oneshot. I've had it sitting on my computer in one guise or another for a good month or so. I'm sorry - I got distracted by Unbound, Fixed in Flux and Better. Anyway, it's done now. Yay!

Oh and Penelope Louise brought this up: I've been titling the chapters with the prompt I've used for the oneshot. Is this okay, or would people rather I titled it with the actual title of the oneshot?

This is for yaba, who has gone back and reviewed every chapter. You rock! And also, JocelynMcC who won the bet against me. *grumbles* Joking, I enjoyed writing it.

x tromana

* * *

**Title:** Jealousy  
**Author:** tromana  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Bosco, Jane/Lisbon  
**Disclaimer:** I have a rabbit named Rigsby but that's as close as it gets.  
**Summary:** And there's no point in denying it, because we all know you're not above the green eyed monster.  
**Notes:** 50 Phrases: too late. Written for the Jane/Lisbon forum (http:// jisbon . freeforums . org) betting pool. Influenced by JocelynMcC who requested something with Bosco cornering Jane over his influence over Lisbon. It isn't _quite_ that, I'm afraid.  
**Spoilers:** 2x03 Red Badge

**Jealousy**

You hate seeing them so close, don't you? You're not proud to admit it, but you're jealous, jealous of that egotistical jackass of a clown. If you had the chance to really set his ass on fire, you would do just that in a heartbeat, wouldn't you? And there's no point in denying it, because we all know you're not above that little green eyed monster. It's the way she doesn't bother to push him away when he stands that little too close, isn't it? The way that she, too, is more than happy to close the gap between them to whisper in his ear. You're fairly certain they're not in a sexual relationship, not yet anyway, but it doesn't stop you craving that kind of physical intimacy with her. You dislike thinking of her as an object, something to be fought over, but seeing the pair of them together just brings out that jealous streak in you. And of all people, Patrick Jane absolutely does not deserve her.

But you had your chance and blew it. She's never going to be interested in you anymore, is she?

When she first left the SFPD for Sacramento, it was been a blessed relief. It meant that firstly, you could apply damage limitation when it came to your wife. She stopped seeing Teresa Lisbon as a threat once she had left and was finally secure in the knowledge that it was her you loved rather than the spunky little detective who has since blossomed into a commanding senior agent. The kids weren't going to lose their daddy to some exciting, youthful thing and she wasn't going to go through the humiliation of losing her husband to a younger, (prettier) woman either. That's not to mention the other reason. The… thing… that became a massive wedge between you and your eager student. If that ever saw the light of day, it'd have massive repercussions, on both of you. And you can't quite bring yourself to trust her, can you? It's not just the cautious police officer inside speaking but it's the simple fact that Teresa is like a ticking time bomb, what with her fiery personality and short temper. The sparks that fly around her are enough to be a catalyst to open that can of worms again. And that's always scared you, hasn't it? That someone else has that kind of power, leverage over you.

You can lie to yourself and those you love all you like, but really you moved to Sacramento and the CBI because of Teresa. To follow in her footsteps. You wanted, needed, to see her again, to see exactly what she's become. You'd heard the rumours of her success, but that's nothing like seeing it first-hand. You haven't bothered telling your wife that you're working with her again because that'd just cause her unnecessary stress and heartbreak. It's better to let her believe you've moved your family for more money and a better way of life. You didn't realise just how much it would make your heart ache every time you see her again. Working with her and having to constantly remind yourself this isn't the little, naïve rookie you once knew is harder than you anticipated. But that doesn't stop you loving her any less does it? And seeing her flirting with Jane just makes everything ten times worse.

He has too much control over her, it's obvious from that first tentative meeting you had together with Minelli over Red John.

You always thought her more discerning than that. That she wouldn't compromise her career over an egotistical charlatan such as him. You're especially concerned since her feigned meltdown at CBI. Not many people would have been able to persuade strict, sensible Teresa that that would be such a good idea. Convincing yourself that Jane is an exception to her rigorous rules don't do much for your concerns, however. It can't be that you're not a good judge of character, because the Teresa you knew wouldn't have been anywhere near as reckless as the one she appears to be now. Seeing what she's become hurts like hell, but at least you can do something to try and manage the situation a little. You're not too late for that, at least.

You know that Teresa won't appreciate it, but you still see her as one of your own and it is for the best, after all. So, when you have the quiet word you've been intending to have with him for oh so long now, he ducks and dives around the questions like a professional, as he has done so each and every time you've endured talking to him. It's not surprising, he was paid to lie for so long and the general public lapped it up like the soft idiots they are. It's obvious that Jane still has that showman's bug that he just can't shake off, never mind that infuriating superiority complex. Anyway, he's not the only one who can deal with questioning like a pro and you swear that when Jane leaves, he seems more rattled than he was to start with. You can never be sure with that man though, but hopefully it's given him some food for thought.

Yet, when you see them together later nothing's changed and they're as close as ever. Jane smiles brightly as you scowl in response. When Teresa catches your eye, she shares that shy smile with you, the one that hasn't really changed since you first saw it when she was in her twenties. But she ducks behind that capricious consultant of hers, almost using him as a shield and trying to create as much distance between you and her as physically possible. It hurts to see her do that, but it isn't surprising. Neither of you are what you once were and she cannot be sure of your intentions, still.

As you leave them to it, yet again, it's irritating to think that he hasn't taken a word of what you said seriously. Irritating, but not wholly unexpected. The man does what he wants, when he wants and Teresa seems to be simply caught up in the excitement and glamour of it all. Not only that, but he makes her unit look so terribly good, what with that incredibly impressive close rate. And whatever she says, it's blatantly obvious just how grateful she is for him saving her life and she's going easy on him. It doesn't matter just how often she's saved his life, though.

Silently, you vow to continue to keep an eye on her. For your sake, if nothing else. Teresa may not want to be close to you anymore but you still can't see her get hurt. If that happened, there would be hell to pay.

end


	20. Happy Birthday

**A/N: **First things first, sorry for the deceptive prompt. This isn't fluff, but I will try and write some soon, I _promise_.

I woke up at 2am with this on the mind, literally. Scribbled some notes and expanded on it this morning. So yeah, it seems I also dream of fanfiction these days, which is always good fun. Well, it's either that or yesterday's migraine that's responsible...

I'm tempted to submit this as a fourth entry into the JelloForever October challenge - but is that a bit too much? I don't know.

Thanks go to: dizzy - in - the - izzy, Penelope Louise, kathiann, mwalter1, Frogster, WildDaisies10, JelloFanatic123, Divinia Serit, PhoenixWytch, Viktorija, lalez, JocelynMcC, IGottaFindYou, yaba, Ebony10, HOUSEMDFanForever, Habeous Corpus, EmmaBerlin, lil smiles, MissNitaGirl, Lisa15, earthlydreamz, Fallen Angels of Love, Steph107, celticgina, Daydreamer1010, The Jaxter, Dance Alice Dance, maricejayo, Jenny Barrow, ch19777 and Madaboutthementalist for reviews, general encouragement and prodding. Feel free to leave prompts if you want, I still have a few author's choices left...

Whew, I'm gonna start thanking you guys every chapter now.

This is for Ebony10, who has just gone back and reviewed every chapter and HOUSEMDFanForever for being the 250th reviewer.

x tromana

* * *

**Title:** Pull, Push  
**Author:** tromana  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon  
**Disclaimer:** Still not mine  
**Summary:** He doesn't even have the energy to look at her, but that doesn't surprise her either. She wouldn't, if she were him.  
**Notes: **50 Phrases: Happy Birthday.  
**Warnings: **One bad swear. I'm sorry.

**Pull, Push**

Lisbon feels like sort of, kind of, maybe, she's invading his privacy. She's never been to Jane's house before. His apartment in Sacramento, yes. Several times, in fact, but that's different. His plush house which was once filled with the finest furniture and the happy sounds of a family living out their lives? Never. The door is only pulled to and while grimacing inside, she pushes it open with some level of trepidation. She doesn't know why she's so nervous; she's a cop after all and has walked into dangerous situations with her head held high many a time before. But this is different, it's a different kind of danger, more low-lying, emotional and certainly far closer to her heart. That's what makes it more hard-hitting, in a way.

The house isn't much different to how it was, back then, when he lived here full time. Apart from the lack of furniture and the thin, though steadily increasing, layer of dust, the fundamentals are still the same. Four brick walls, three bedrooms, two gardens and one smiley face daubed in blood. She shudders. It's like a time capsule, trapped in the past, waiting for eager faces to discover it and reminisce about times gone by. To laugh at dated objects and stare in wonder at old fashions. Her footsteps echo and that makes Lisbon terribly aware of the fact that she feels like she shouldn't be here, she doesn't belong. Really, it's simply a case of a distinct lack of soft-furnishings to absorb the sound, but rationale doesn't have any effect on irrational emotions.

She knows where he is. Jane has described the exact location to her many a time before, usually with an onslaught of tears. Swallowing deeply, she pads upstairs, wondering just what it might have been like for him on that fateful night. Shaking her head violently, she tries to dispel the thought. It's too horrific and she isn't here to lament or empathise, she's here to comfort because that's one of the things that Teresa Lisbon does best. The bedroom door creaks open and he doesn't even have the energy to look at her, but that doesn't surprise her either. She wouldn't, if she were him.

"Oh, Jane."

Her voice isn't patronising, it rarely is unless she is mad as hell. Sarcasm tends to be her protective defence, but her tone isn't that either. It's almost musical, in a way. In two syllables, she's simply trying to tell him that she cares. She approaches him and kneels carefully beside him, plucking the old photograph out of his hands with ease.

Tilts his chin gently.

Carefully covers his lips with her own.

It's a short, sweet affair. Nervous, yet completely in control. It's something that he's come to expect of her, too. He's never known exactly where the power lies between them. It has always been a bit pull, push. She's meant to be his boss, but he's always taken that as more of an option, a choice than a rule. At the same time, she's the only one that he has enough regard for to listen to. A flicker of a smile erupts, but it's extinguished quickly. He knows that Lisbon keeps him on his toes and Jane's grateful for that at the least.

"I never get to say 'Happy Birthday' to her again."

Jane's tone is mournful and the wobbling bottom lip tells her that the tears are threatening to fall again. Gently, she places a tender hand on the back of his head, nestling her fingers amongst his blond curls. Pulls his head down to her shoulder and refuses to relinquish control of the situation. Sometimes, she almost forgets just how fucked up they both are. There's days when they're both so happy and seem like any other couple in the honeymoon period of their relationship. The smiles, the banter, the flirtatious looks are enough to have anyone else fooled. Anyone but themselves, of course.

While gazing at the photograph of Jane's little girl, Lisbon wonders if she made the right decision accepting his offer of a dinner date three months, two days and twenty seven minutes ago. It's only going to end in inevitable heartache, on her part at the very least. There's times, when they are lying side by side, fingers intertwined and him whispering sweet nothings into her ear when she just wonders. What about Red John? She knows that her lover/partner/boyfriend is still on that fruitless quest for revenge and she's still certain he won't let her have him. She wants to believe that he's warming to her methods, the legal methods, she really does. But every time he hypnotises someone, every time he comes out with some outlandish plot to trap a suspect, her heart breaks just a little. Even when she tries to push him away, he reels her right back in, like a fish caught on a fishing hook. Helpless to his every whim.

And Teresa Lisbon doesn't much like feeling helpless. She felt like that too much as a child.

As his wracking sobs soak her new jacket, she wonders just how long they can keep going like this. Pretending that all is well with the world, except for these brief little snapshots when they show their true feelings and just how broken they really are. That in reality, they're fighting a losing battle, one that their emotions for one another can't really ever win against. In fact, it's not really a battle, it's a war. A bloody war, unrelenting and unforgiving. Willing to tear them both up in shreds, spit them out and repeat the process all over again. They don't fight, not verbally, but they both know that a war of words isn't always necessary for there to an argument. It's what's going on below that counts.

The world's unfair and all she just wants is a little bit of happiness. Is that really too much to ask?

But does it really have to cost so much?

end


	21. There's no need

**A/N: **Sorry this was such a long time coming. Going away + migraine seems to have got me out of the writing routine. Starting a new job on Monday as well so hopefully I'll be able to sort out a new routine to fit in writing everything I want to around it. Yay.

Thanks to: lalez, Penelope Louise, Divinia Serit, Ebony10, Fallen Angels of Love, yaba, Viktorija, Frogster, dizzy - in - the - izzy, IGottaFindYou, MissNitaGirl, shopping-luva91 and Alamo Girl for reviewing _Pull, Push_.

This is for shopping-luva91 for going back and reviewing every oneshot so far. Thank you very much!

x tromana

(PS. Still no fluff. I'm sorry...)

* * *

**Title:** No Good Deed  
**Author:** tromana  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon, Team  
**Disclaimer:** I have a headache, but no Mentalist. Or the rights to Wicked, for that matter.  
**Summary:** He'd never know just how angry she was with him, especially if the girl didn't make it.  
**Notes: **50 Phrases: There's no need. Lyrics from _No Good Deed_ from the musical, Wicked.  
**Spoilers: **2x03 Red Badge

**No Good Deed**

_One question haunts and hurts  
Too much, too much to mention:  
Was I really seeking good  
Or just seeking attention?_

"Damn it, Jane, she's bleeding out."

Lisbon shot a fiery look of anguish over her shoulder as the small child's eyelids fluttered shut yet again. Jane had frozen to the spot, simply staring at the sorry situation, terrified to come any closer. The rest of the team were chasing down the monster who had stabbed the girl, though not fatally. Not yet, anyway. The brunette's hands had moved swiftly and were currently pressing as firmly as possible on the wound, not that it was doing much good. With frustration, Lisbon sighed and mumbled at the girl, begging her to hold on, to be strong. Telling her that she was going to be okay and that she wouldn't let anything happen to her.

"Jane, I need your help," she shouted once more, her throat growing hoarse. "If you carry on just standing there, she's going to die."

Silence.

He still couldn't move.

Wouldn't move.

It wasn't her fault that the blonde curls cascaded down her face the same way as his daughter's had.

Nor the fact that the blood pooling at her side reminded him of that horrific scene he'd been greeted with on the fateful night that Red John had torn his family apart.

"_Don't go," she whispered plaintively. "There's no need to. We don't need the money, Patrick."_

_After placing his daughter down on the ground and stopping to ruffle her blonde curls affectionately, he eventually approached his beautiful wife. He reached up and placed a hand gently on her cheek before placing a kiss firmly on her lips. Jane groaned as the woman he loved deepened it, not at all ashamed of the fact they were displaying their affections in front of their daughter. She was used to it anyway; her parents were both exhibitionists of sorts, so it took quite a lot to embarrass her. However, she did quickly decide that it was time to allow her parents to say goodbye to one another on their own. Besides, her dolls weren't going to play with themselves anyway._

"_This is the last one, I promise," he whispered while keeping her close. "I can't pull out of the contract."_

"_And what about the CBI? Do you need to keep working for them?"_

_"Meh, they keep asking," he replied with a casual shrug. "And besides, everyone needs to do a few good deeds once in a while." _

"_And do they appreciate it?"_

_The question remained unanswered as he turned his back on her and they disentangled their fingers. She was certain that they would be reunited in less than twenty four hours anyway. Fate and Red John had different plans for her, however._

Tentatively daring to move just the one hand, Lisbon dialled 911, all the while glaring at Jane. The kid could die and all he could do was stand there, with a stricken look written across his features. Lisbon ignored the fact that he was visibly shaking as well, she had to. There were more pressing matters for her to be dealing with. The little girl's eyes slowly opened, her big blue orbs staring up at her, clearly terrified. Wordlessly, she took hold of one of her small hands and gripped it reassuringly, allowing a quiet prayer to a God she wasn't sure she believed in to slip through her lips. If her shaky faith aided the girl's survival, she didn't care what Jane thought.

Besides, he'd never know just how angry she was with him, especially if the girl didn't make it.

***

Lisbon had received the news in her office and was thoroughly relieved that she was sitting down. Roughly, she pulled out a tissue from the box that she usually reserved for the relatives of victims and dabbed gently at the corners of her eyes. She wouldn't allow herself to break down entirely on CBI premises, but she couldn't stop a tear or two making its presence known. When Cho knocked sharply on the door, she allowed a ragged sigh to escape from her lips before acknowledging and granting him access.

"The father's here," he spoke. "He wants to speak with you."

She nodded her quiet gratitude and followed Cho through to the bullpen, where a weedy man with red-rimmed eyes was waiting for her. The moment he saw Lisbon, he leapt to his feet, like he was a coiled spring, drawing back his arm, hand balled up into a fist. Before he had a chance to actually hit her, Rigsby had hold of him, eyes filled with an indignant rage. Nobody went to hit a woman he cared about under his watch. It didn't matter that he had lost his daughter, there was absolutely no excuse for violence. Besides, Lisbon had tried her best to save her, everyone knew that.

"She died," he seethed, while Rigsby retained his firm grip on him. "She died because of you."

Lisbon stared, aghast, at the grieving father. This happened all too often.

Another angry man, just a month ago, furious because she hadn't been able to stop a rapist getting hold of his daughter. Still fuming, possibly justifiably so, after eight years of hurt and simply looking for someone to point an accusative finger at.

Children wondering why she couldn't have got there quick enough to save their parents. If only she'd been able to catch the criminal five minutes earlier.

Wives, bitter, because their husbands have been sent down for the heinous crimes they've committed. Wearing rose-tinted glasses, unable to see the monster hiding beneath the polished veneer.

Sometimes, she wondered why she bothered at all.

"She tried her best," Van Pelt remarked, flying from her seat nearby. "There wasn't anything more she could have done."

"Don't worry, Van Pelt, Rigsby," Lisbon murmured. "I can fight my own battles."

Reluctantly and along with Cho, they withdrew, though stayed close enough to intervene if anything else happened. Placing a hand on his shoulder, which he quickly threw off, Lisbon indicated to the table where they both took a seat. The man continued to glare contemptuously at her as she tried to figure out the right way to deal with him.

"We're very sorry for your loss, Mr. Anthony."

"Yeah, well not sorry enough to save her life in the first place."

"The CBI did all…"

"Are you just quoting from some CBI textbook, Agent Lisbon?" he growled.

"When I say we did all we could, I mean it," she snapped, before lowering her tone. "The man responsible has been caught."

"Well… good," he replied. "But that doesn't bring her back."

***

"Whiskey, Lisbon? That's rather unlike you."

She swallowed the last drop, wincing as it burned the back of her throat before slamming the glass back down on the surface. Jack was always a good friend to the stressed and lonely, after all. Briefly, she looked contemplatively at the glass before turning to face the person who had just joined her, her glare hardened before quickly softening again. What was the point? He never learned and she had a shrinking suspicion that he never would.

"Why did you freeze, Jane?"

He made a non-committal noise before ordering two more whiskeys, simply assuming that she wanted another. They remained silent until they clinked glasses, the sound seeming strangely loud to the both of them considering they were in the busy bar.

"To… good deeds," he murmured and she nodded in agreement before tossing the drink back.

They didn't drink much more, but they didn't part company for another couple of hours. Lisbon was still frustrated that she hadn't received an answer to her question and Jane had wanted to tell her, really he did. But at the same time, he didn't want to drag her into that whole mess. Yes, she dealt with death and destruction on a daily basis and had at the very least, a vague understanding of the emotional fallout which was an inevitability with violent crimes. However, off-loading on her would be one step too far, he felt. Like it was above and beyond the call of duty; one good deed he didn't want her to do simply because he felt she didn't deserve it.

He knew that she would be willing to, though. That was half the problem, really.

Even if he did ever tell her more, he doubted he'd ever appreciate it. Knowing him, he'd probably just throw it back in her face.

But, by doing this, he was punishing both of them, really. Wasn't he?

If only he could trust himself.

If only…

_My road of good intentions  
Led where such roads always lead  
No good deed  
Goes unpunished._


	22. Not yet

**A/N: **Firstly, Happy Birthday, shopping-luva91! I hope you enjoy this Wicked-based oneshot. Though, I'm not entirely sure if 'enjoy' is the right word for this as the angst!bunnies are multiplying by the second again.

Thanks go to: celticgina, lalez, Ebony10, Frogster, Viktorija, shopping-luva91, yaba, MissNitaGirl, IGottaFindYou, kathiann, Divinia Serit and Penelope Louise for reviewing _No Good Deed_. Thank you very much!

Right, now it's time to stop distracting myself and do some _real_ work. I have a meeting in the morning. Speaking of deadlines, sign ups for the Jello Forever Secret Santa close on the 14th. That's three days away! Go, sign up. The more the merrier!

x tromana

**

* * *

**

**Title:** Decisions  
**Author:** tromana  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon, Team  
**Disclaimer:** I'm waiting on Santa, but I doubt it'll happen.  
**Summary:** "I hope you're happy," she added. "Now that you're choosing this."  
**Notes: **50 Phrases: Not yet

**Warning: **Character death.

**Decisions**

"You always said you'd stop me."

"I did," she acknowledges with a slight nod.

"Why aren't you?"

"Even if I tried, you'd just find a way around it. It's what you _do_."

She finishes her statement, sounding uncharacteristically dull and turns on her heels, unable to look at him for a second longer. Cell phone already in hand, she's dialling the number of one of the others. Probably Cho, as she finds him the most reliable and steadfast. He's efficient and will get the others together for her swiftly. Would recommend him for promotion if he wanted to leave them, but he doesn't, so she hasn't. Jane grips the knife tighter due to simple reflexes. There's no need to do so, it's not as if she is even attempting to take it away from him. He finds it disconcerting; whenever they discussed this moment in the past, she had declared with conviction that she would stop him. That she would try and prevent this happening and failing that, arrest him if he did what he had planned to all these years ago.

"Don't go, not yet."

"Why?" she asks, spitting the word out with vitriol.

Bitterly, she wipes a tear from her eye, thoroughly irritated that she is unable to control her emotions around him.

"I hope you're happy," she adds when he doesn't answer. "Now that you're choosing this."

But then, she thinks, you were always going to choose Red John over me. Myself, the team, we don't come into it. We never did and I was so terribly naïve to believe we ever did so. She hates herself for thinking that though, for becoming so hopeful for his recovery and being blinded by her sheer determination to fix him. The fact of the matter is, some people just don't want to be fixed and Patrick Jane is one of them. He would rather see through his fruitless quest for revenge than even consider having a future, another life. Not necessarily with her, she reminds herself quickly. Just a second chance. She's always believed that most people deserve those.

"Lis- Teresa…"

"I hope you get what you want," she added. "I really do. And that you don't live to regret it."

"Are you saying you hope I _die_?"

"No," she whispers. "I just don't want you regretting your decision in years to come."

"I won't," he assures her.

"Good."

They both turn in opposite directions and neither look back to glance at the other. Both do what they think is right. Jane, rushes off to find his nemesis, relying only on his knife and wits to end all these years of hurt. Lisbon, simply waits for the rest of her team, for back. To attempt to do this as safely as possible and most importantly, legally. It breaks her heart to know that Jane is already going in there in a typically reckless fashion. But she's spent years trying to talk him out of this and as she hasn't managed to change his mind in that time, there's absolutely no way she is going to have any success now.

When Rigsby, Cho, Van Pelt and a local squad arrive on site, she's relieved but still a little bit bitter. Quickly, she quashes down her emotions, especially the repetitive thought that she always knew it was going to come to this. Whatever Jane is up to now, _whether or not he is still alive, even_, she still has a job to do. That job, she assumes still, is apprehending one of the most notorious murderers in California of recent years. She is still the figure of authority and she has to hold face, unlike Jane, who is driven by emotions and his own twisted sense of morality.

"What do we do, Boss?"

Van Pelt looks at her with those wide, Bambi-like eyes and Lisbon realises that this is hurting the red-head almost as much as it hurts herself. She's growing fearful of what she is going to discover now, but they haven't heard shouting, nor any shots. They don't know whether or not that's a good sign. Almost immediately, she gives out instructions, mentally reminding herself to treat this as any old case rather than one which was most likely going to turn a friend into either a murderer or a victim.

When in the room, decorated with dated flowery wallpaper, scant furniture and a generous spattering of blood, Lisbon's eyes immediately notice the mangled body in the corner. Not somebody she recognises, but she instinctively knows that it is Red John. As her eyes flick to the other side of the room, she barely notices the fact that Rigsby is virtually running back outside, heaving, with Van Pelt close behind. Tentatively, she approaches Jane. His breathing is laboured and she knows deep down that Cho's frantic call for an ambulance is in vain. They both know enough about violent crimes to just be able to _tell_.

"Don't forget me," he rasps as she kneels beside him and entwines her fingers around his own.

"I won't, can't do that."

Her eyes fix onto his so she can ignore the fact that slowly, steadily, his breathing is becoming worse and worse. Eventually, his chest ceases to rise and fall. For a short while, she does nothing, unsure of how to act. It's the end she never wanted, after all. Teresa Lisbon, ever the fixer, had always hoped that she'd changed him for the better. Instead, she finds herself pressing her fingertips to his eyelids and closing them gently, ignoring the tear sliding down her cheek.

"I hope you're happy."

end


	23. Give up

**A/N: **Okay, sorry this was a little while coming - I was running thin on inspiration for oneshots, so focussing on my multiparters instead. This actually struck me at work, and thankfully I had the time to jot down... well, most of it actually. Don't worry, I did get everything I needed done at work, I wasn't being sneaky - just killing time until I actually had more to do. (My work place is very weird, don't ask.)

Anyway, still on the Wicked kick, obviously. Those lyrics are just a complete mine for oneshot inspiration, I love it. Hee! I've been reading the book as well - s'okay, but I prefer the musical by a country mile.

Enough rambling: thanks to: lalez, Toni, Viktorija, WingfieldLegend, Frogster, shopping-luva91, WildDaisies10, Ebony10, Divinia Serit, yaba, Penelope Louise, Carrie O'Neal, MissNitaGirl, IGottaFindYou and finaldragon13 for reviewing _Decisions_.

For Frogster, who I know has been anticipating the update of this.

x tromana

* * *

**Title:** Couldn't Be Happier  
**Author:** tromana  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon  
**Disclaimer:** Dear Santa: I would like a pony, a plastic rocket and the rights to the Mentalist and Wicked, please. In other words, no it isn't mine. Lyrics are from Wicked: 'Thank Goodness'  
**Summary:** The relationship wasn't all sunshine and roses, but she never expected that anyway.  
**Notes: **50 Phrases: Give up

**Couldn't Be Happier**

_Yes, we couldn't be happier,  
__Right, dear?  
__Couldn't be happier,  
__Right here,  
__Look what we've got,  
__A fairytale plot,  
__Our very own happy ending._

It was nice, really. However much she tried to deny it, it really was lovely to have someone to go home to at night. Someone she could relax with, someone just to share her life with. And yes, even someone to care for her. Though Teresa Lisbon was loathe to admit it, but she did want looking after every so often. Just someone to listen to her, to run that much-deserved bath and hand over a mug of hot chocolate. Someone to share her problems with. She wasn't ashamed to admit that her life had more than its fair share of issues - it was something that was only natural with someone with not only a background like hers, but a career like hers as well. Really, it was to be expected. Anyway, she could, _should_ be happy. Only problem was, sometimes, she thought that just maybe, she may have bitten off more than she can chew.

That was because Patrick Jane most certainly was not the model partner. He didn't slip into that picture perfect life, however much he looked like he should. Other women raved endlessly at her about him: that hair, those eyes, the infectious, boyish grin. Every physical aspect of him was scrutinized as if he were some portrait up for some kind of art competition. But the shallow, jealous crones didn't know him. They didn't know about the broken package that he really was - that he somehow, miraculously, kept well hidden. That they both did, now. For his problems were her problems too - they had been for far longer than she had even known each other. It had been for about as long as she had been shouldered with the Red John case, really.

Those women certainly wouldn't be so soft on him if they knew that despite the fact he seemed to be in a mature, functional relationship, really he was still hell-bent on revenge. How can you be comfortable in your partnership when you knew full well that your boyfriend (though, even now, Lisbon still found that term terribly juvenile) would be more than happy to throw his life away should he have the (mis)fortune to come across the serial killer that brutally murdered his family? That he wouldn't have a second thought about it - least of all for his boss, who also happened to be his girlfriend. And the unfortunate person who was in charge of the investigation into said serial killer.

Sometimes, she regretted saying yes to that invitation for dinner. But then again, how was she meant to know, back then, that it would turn into so much more? That one date would quickly roll into another and another, until eventually he was moving out of his suitcase and hotel rooms and into her apartment. Truth of the matter was, she enjoyed spending time with him, despite all his flaws. It meant she spent a larger proportion of her life as Teresa rather than Lisbon, or simple 'Boss'. The impromptu visits to the coast, being surprised with flowers, going to theater, movies, museums and living rather than simply going through the motions. Rather than exclusively focusing on catching the 'bad guys' so that the rest of California can sleep easily at night.

So many people referred to them as a 'match made in Heaven', a statement that irritated Lisbon no end. While she believed in Heaven and indeed, God, Jane did not. And while he always shrugged it off, almost pitying the person who spoke, she became offended on his behalf. If one more person dared comment just how wonderful it was that two bruised and battered individuals should find each other and become stronger because of one another, she swore she wouldn't be responsible for her actions. Not only did she find it rude that people insinuated that she needed Jane to become a better person, to 'cope', but she hated the idea that it really was so terribly unnatural to live life on your own and not be in a relationship of some variety. She'd lived so much of her adult life alone, earning respect and her identity on her own merits that to have it written off simply because she now had a man in her life drove her insane.

But - the longer this charade went on (and she couldn't help but think of it as anything but that), the more they fought. And not just mindless, petty squabbles over the silliest of things that were to be expected, but full-blown screaming matches that left both their throats hoarse. The type that could quite easily upset their working balance at the office for days, for weeks, even. Why couldn't he give up this foolish quest for revenge? Why couldn't she just try and open up a little more instead of being so defensive all the while? Why can't they both stop being so damn stubborn and learn a little bit more about give and take.

The arguments, the obsessions, the judgment of other people, she found she could generally cope with anyway. Most of the time, at least. They were just the quirks of being in a relationship, so to speak. After all, there's no such thing as a 'normal' human being and therefore, there was no hope for being in a 'normal' relationship. What she struggled with most was being made to feel inferior to a ghost. Jane was careful though, terribly so. He'd only referred to her by his wife's name on a couple of occasions, something she turned a blind eye to. But sometimes, she just felt like he was looking at her, wishing she was someone she wasn't. And of course, if she hadn't died, then he wouldn't have even bothered giving her a second glance. She was just the consolation prize, someone who he spent time with because he couldn't be with who he really wanted to be.

The relationship wasn't all sunshine and roses, but she never expected that anyway. Lisbon knew she would have been a fool to do so, but she can't help but wish that it was a little bit easier, at the very least. Love shouldn't always be about fighting for and against one another and sometimes she wondered whether or not it was all worth it. But still, whenever one of her brothers, an old college friend or even, one of the others in her unit turned around and asked her how she was, she swallowed down all the bitterness and anger. Instead of telling the truth and just letting them know how much she struggled at times, she offered a slight smile and replied with: "I couldn't be happier."

end


	24. No more excuses

**A/N: **This is almost fluff. Almost because I have other projects which are out-fluffing me. No, not _Entropy_, obviously. Heh.

Thanks go to: Carrie O'Neal, Viktorija, Frogster, lalez, Penelope Louise, IGottaFindYou, Divinia Serit, Ebony10, CharmedNightSkye, yaba and dizzy - in - the - izzy for commenting on _Couldn't Be Happier_. You guys rock!

For lalez - your reviews always make me smile.

x tromana

* * *

**Title:** Sleep  
**Author: **tromana  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon  
**Disclaimer:** Dear Santa: I would like a pony, a plastic rocket and the rights to the Mentalist please. Nope, it isn't mine.  
**Summary:** He's been plagued with insomnia for years.  
**Notes:** 50 Phrases: No more excuses

**Sleep**

He's been plagued with insomnia for years. In fact, he can barely remember a time when he didn't have it.

Most people assume that his sleep problems started when his wife and daughter died, which to be fair is only natural. Shocking events like that can quite easily be the cause of sleep deprivation. After all, who wants to dream about their loved ones being butchered time and time again? It's the kind of thing that a person's psyche would try and protect against, at least. And if staying awake was the easiest away to prevent it, then it's no wonder his subconscious does just that to him.

But he's suffered from it from it since before he even met his wife. Long before his bouncing baby girl.

He doesn't know why he's suffered from it since his teens. Jane simply jokes that it's one of his quirks, one of life's little mysteries.

His wife had frequently remarked that it made him the perfect husband. It meant that she could get a decent night's sleep while he stayed up all night keeping an eye on the baby. Well, when he could virtually guarantee that he would stay awake for most of the night, what was the point in her depriving herself as well? There was no need for them both to be awake and besides, it gave him a chance to have some time alone with his daughter. As she bloomed from baby to toddler, it didn't surprise either of them that she very quickly turned into a Daddy's girl.

Truth be told, in the eight years or so that he slept, or at least, laid beside his wife, he did sleep a little better at night. There was something about her lulling breath and the feel of her warm, breathing body pressed up close to his that helped him settle, relaxed him. Allowed him to doze, if only for a few hours a night, but still waking willingly whenever his daughter needed him. For those all-too-brief few years, he actually felt relaxed, rested and almost content with his lot. There were times when he almost contemplated quitting the psychic scene, but never did because he didn't know where else he could get the buzz he got from performing from. It was better than caffeine, better than any drug he'd risked trying. Better even than sex.

Given the chance, he'd go back and exchange the euphoric feeling for his family any day.

It's taken him a long while to realize that despite the fact that he is a father without a daughter, a husband without a wife, that life does actually go on. Admittedly, it helped being given a supervising agent who took an instant dislike to him when he joined the CBI. Rather than being irritated by it, he saw her as being a personal challenge. Somebody to win over. Simply something to do, a distraction, as you will. Senior Agent Teresa Lisbon and all her quirks kept him occupied while he waited for the notorious Red John to make his grand appearance again.

He hadn't quite counted on falling in love again, though. Least of all with her.

Jane isn't exactly adverse to the idea of loving a woman who isn't his wife, but that doesn't mean he's thrilled either. It hurts a surprising amount each time he glances at his finger and spots that glinting piece of gold twinkling back up at him. He wonders when there'll be no more excuses and he will actually get the courage to take it off one last time. It's still present on his finger when he actually invites himself around for dinner and a movie and she doesn't chuck him back out on his ass. She says nothing, she doesn't pressurize him and he's thankful for that. There's not many women who would be quite as understanding as her.

It's a long while before he is willing to share a bed with her, however. They both are more than aware of his sleep issues, so even if he stayed over night, he opted for her couch and comforter rather than sharing her double bed. Besides, it meant that he could watch the television, sound down painfully low, while she managed to get the eight hours she needed every night. And she never bothered asking him just how well he slept, because there was no point. Over the past couple of years, she's slowly developed an aptitude at reading him too, much to his irritation. But, at the very least, it did mean that they were on a slightly more level playing field, if nothing else.

The day he finally dares to take off his ring is the day he decides he should finally at least try sharing a bed with her. Lying beside Lisbon, one arm draped lazily across her midriff, he feels contented. But sleep is still as elusive as ever. Jane had thought that maybe having the solid weight of a woman beside him may help lure him into sleep, but obviously he had been wrong. If anything, it's made everything slightly worse. With an indistinct moan, she shuffles slightly in her sleep and a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. His leg is beginning to ache somewhat from being pinned in the same position for too long, but he doesn't want to disturb the little sleeping woman. She gets grumpy enough as it is without being woken up in the middle of the night. So instead, he lays stock still, staring up at the ceiling, eyes tracing the shadows created by the moon, street lights, the headlights of the odd passing car.

Maybe it'd take a short while before he'd feel comfortable enough to actually drift off himself? It is quite a major adjustment to make, after all.

If not, never mind. He's lived like this for long enough for it not to make too much of a difference anyway.

end


	25. That's cruel

**A/N: **The girl _can_ write fluff! Believe me, it's a revelation for me too! And YAY for the Jello Forever Secret Santa. It's been like an avalanche of fic and the creativity of everyone involved just astounds me. *grins*

Anyway: Thanks to Penelope Louise, Divinia Serit, dizzy - in - the - izzy, Ebony10, Viktorija, yaba, WildDaisies10, Frogster and IGottaFindYou for reviewing _Sleep_.

And... my goodness. I'm halfway through this challenge already. When did that happen?! *blinks*

x tromana

* * *

**Title:** Mistletoe Mischief  
**Author:** tromana  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon Team  
**Disclaimer:** Still not mine  
**Summary: **It's not the usual suspects causing Lisbon problems this holiday season…  
**Notes:** Beta'd by Miss Peg, Divinia Serit and earthlydreamz. Thank you so much, ladies! 50 Phrases prompt: That's cruel

This was written for Ebony10 in the Jello Forever Secret Santa. She asked for _"Spiked Eggnog + Lisbon" _and _"Mistletoe Mischief". _Yeah, I'm super inventive with titles.

**Mistletoe Mischief**

Whenever the holiday season creeps ever closer, Senior Agent Teresa Lisbon finds herself ending up slightly on edge. What with three younger brothers determined to set her up just in time for Christmas and a certain blond consultant who seems persistently determined to wreak havoc for any and every reason, the stress is enough to burst an aorta, she's sure. So, on the first of December, she found herself creeping into the bullpen, suspicion levels cranked up to the fullest. Thanksgiving had literally just passed, so she was fairly certain that meant that Patrick Jane would be ready to let it rip with the Christmas celebrations, what with the shops having been adorned with Christmas decorations and 'ideas' for gifts for months already. And she couldn't see him wanting to miss out on an ideal opportunity to annoy the heck out of everybody either. Though, the previous year, everything at work had been normal_**. **_She'd just put it down to the fact that the team was settling down, getting used to one another. They didn't want to risk a crazy stunt without knowing quite how the others would react.

But Jane was perfectly innocent, for once. Well, at least innocent of attempting to inject a little Christmas cheer into the offices at the CBI. Before he married, he had lived an erratic lifestyle, simply drifting here and there, all the while trying to impress people in attempt to get his big break. He had only been enthusiastic about Christmas for seven years or so - when he had his wife to help develop a little holiday cheer within him and then, a small girl to lavish with expensive gifts. Since he lost them, he had a habit of almost forgetting that the holiday even existed until it was almost literally on top of him. That still wasn't enough to stop Lisbon from being suspicious though. In the time she'd known him, it was hardly surprising. It wasn't as if he'd shown her any reason not to be on past occasions.

The first time she found out about the developing problems was seven days into the month. Rigsby had cornered the Asian agent within the kitchenette, by the coffee machine. The younger man was absolutely livid, with his cheeks flushed a cheery, bright red. Cho, however, was as expressionless as ever, but hastily stuffing something suspiciously green back into his jacket pocket. Lisbon hadn't quite arrived soon enough to see what it was he was hiding, but nevertheless, it was enough to be disconcerting.

"Whatever, but I still think it's cruel, man," Rigsby hissed, spinning on heels and quickly nodding at his boss before stalking back into the bullpen.

Lisbon's eyes traced the tall man's footsteps and she noted that he had joined Grace Van Pelt and the two were huddled together, their heads jerking up nervously occasionally. She shook her head with a deep sigh and turned her attentions back to Cho, who was pouring himself of a coffee. As he leaned up against the counter, he quickly raised his eyebrows at her, appearing to be the perfect picture of innocence. She shook her head and rolled onto her tiptoes to reach for the tea bag canister on the top shelf. It was a bit of a stretch and she could reach it - but only just. Besides, she was too busy contemplating to ask for help. Whatever it was that Rigsby was berating him for couldn't be important, could it? Cho was definitely on her side, wasn't he? He had never demonstrated any reason why she shouldn't trust him in the past, after all. As she dunked her tea bag in boiling water several times, she consoled herself with that fact. They'd probably just been arguing over something childish, knowing them. When Jane startled her, she shrieked at him, grew embarrassed and fell silent once more within the space of thirty seconds. Lisbon's eyes fell firmly onto the mug she was using, but she couldn't help but steal the odd glance or two while her tea stewed. Jane was off-limits, she was more than aware of that, but it wasn't as if _looking_ hurt anybody, right?

She failed to notice the knowing smirk on Cho's face as she pottered back to her office, drink in hand. He still had plans for her - they were just going to take longer to develop than his continual spur-of-the-moment taunting of Rigsby. Anyway, he wanted to get the younger agents on side and keep it all secret from Jane, too. The compulsory invitation they had all received to Minelli's Christmas party had given him an idea or three. The director had believed that he needed to start up an 'annual' CBI Christmas party for some reason or another, though none of the SCU had the faintest idea why. Something about raising spirits and improving inter-unit relationships, apparently. It was something that Lisbon was dreading. There was absolutely no way she wanted to make a fool out of herself in front of her unit, never mind the rest of the CBI and her boss too. Well, Cho knew she'd probably want to kill him for this, but it was for the greater good. Either that, or he could just be thought of as some kind of Christmas fairy, granting wishes for the hard-working and needy after this.

The next week or so passed by relatively smoothly, apart from Jane's usual hi-jinks when it came to cases and Van Pelt and Rigsby staying at the very least five meters away from Cho at all times. Lisbon was beginning to think that while everyone else enjoyed themselves, she should simply bury herself in the paperwork in order to at least try and catch up before the New Year. Heaven forbid her even consider the notion of getting ahead, though. The team seemed to have settled down a bit since the beginning-of-the-month hysteria, apart from Van Pelt who insisted upon bringing in various home-baked treats to 'celebrate such a special time of year.' Nobody in their right mind was going to complain about the presence of more cake and Christmas cookies in the office, though. Apart from the receptionist who seemed to cut out a different foodstuff every week in attempt to shift an extra pound of weight, of course. And thankfully, Lisbon hadn't seen anything that looked suspiciously like mistletoe anywhere near the office since Cho had been playing about with what she was certain was it on December the first. Though, she had heard Van Pelt squeak something about it being about time that they put up some decorations…

"So will you be coming to Minelli's inaugural Christmas party tonight?"

"What kind of question is that?" Lisbon snapped as she jolted from her reverie. "We have to, don't we?"

"That's where you're wrong," Jane beamed brightly. "You have to, but I don't. I'm freelance, remember?"

"You may not be an agent, but if I have to suffer through it, then so do you."

"Well, when you phrase it like that…"

Lisbon nodded, satisfied. Besides, she had always known Jane would be going anyway. There were so many opportunities for him to cause a scene, there was absolutely no way he was going to pass that up.

Three hours later and she headed into the bar that Minelli had rented out with a significant amount of reservation, pulling her skirt down, irritated at the fact it seemed to be riding up her thigh. She darted through the entrance as quickly as feasibly possible; there was the bunch of mistletoe hanging above the door that she had expected. Thankfully, arriving early had paid off and she had avoided being cornered by anyone underneath it. Stupid, bloody traditions, she thought. It wasn't even one that made much _sense_. Besides, her mood hadn't been helped by the fact that the eldest of her three brothers had rang her an hour beforehand telling her about this absolutely perfect guy who he'd just started working with who she just had to meet. Really, she thought it was women who were more interested in setting up blind dates for supposedly sorry spinsters who obviously couldn't be happy without a man in their lives.

She smiled slightly when she saw her team arrive half an hour later. Cho and Jane managed to weasel their way through the door frame unscathed, but Rigsby and Van Pelt, blushing, shared a quick kiss. Lisbon wasn't an idiot and she knew there was something going on between them. However, so long as they kept it quiet and very much out of the office, she was more than willing to play the fool. The team had just settled into a happy balance and she wasn't willing to potentially tear it apart just yet. After a quick hello, the other agents dissipated into the crowd that had been quickly growing since her arrival. Jane, on the other hand, simply leaned against the bar beside her, with a smile traced on his features.

"You look like you're having a good time."

"Oh just thrilling," she replied sarcastically.

"Yeah, thanks for talking me into coming."

"No problem," she replied promptly. "Like I said, if I have to endure this, so do you."

"Remind me to never get on the wrong side of you, woman."

"Oh, you're always on my wrong side."

There was a polite cough from somewhere above her and she automatically glanced upwards. She hadn't realized that she was standing by a step-ladder. How they had managed to smuggle that in, she had no idea and the very thought posed a thousand questions. Cho grinned back down at her as Rigsby held it steady. Swiftly Van Pelt handed the Asian agent something that looked suspiciously green and white. So, all three of them were in on this. Her expression rearranged itself into something that she was certain resembled a deer caught in the headlights as she stared at Jane. Her brain eventually caught up and finally put two and two together. She began hoping, praying, that he could come up with some kind of logical excuse to get them out of this. Instead, he was looking at the rest of the team, equally horrified.

"We're fed up with the doe-eyes," Cho said, answering their unspoken question. "If tradition is the only way to shove you two in the right direction, then I'm all for tradition."

"Where did you…" Lisbon started.

"Just kiss him, will you?"

"You three are…"

"You can threaten us all you like," Cho continued. "Yes, you can put us on desk or stakeout duty for a month. We also know you have your gun on you, we know that you have plans of where to hide our bodies, too. That's not going to get you out of this, Boss."

Cho's voice carried over the space filled with CBI staff and everyone began to settle into a silence, anticipating the next move of the capricious consultant and the frankly, scary, boss lady of the Serious Crimes Unit. With a shrug, Jane placed a gentle hand onto Lisbon's cheek, gently stroking it with her thumb. The digit moved and soon came into contact with her lower lip, the gentle pressure causing her to swallow deeply. Somewhere along the line, they closed the half meter or so that had been between them, her hip bone almost colliding into him. She was used to being close to Jane and many a time, had closed the gap between them herself, whether it be to whisper in his ear, to get closer to a body or for some other inane excuse. But this was different: they'd rarely been touching before, certainly not somewhere as intimate as the face and they had definitely not been staring into one another's eyes. When he finally pressed his lips against hers, she didn't even notice the crowd that had gathered around them erupt into a burst of cheers. She was too busy raking her fingers through his blond curls as he pinned her to himself. Breathless and flushed, she eventually pulled away from him and in a matter of seconds found herself rushing outside, tears springing to her eyes.

Glancing at a slightly bemused Rigsby, Cho and Van Pelt, Jane took it upon himself to chase her outside. The crowd generally parted with ease and he ignored the pats on the back and sly winks from the organized crime cowboys. Once he got outside, he saw her leaning up against a lamp post, shivering slightly in its golden glow. As he approached her tentatively, he felt his breathing hitch. There was something about the situation, the lighting, her rather more dressy than usual clothing and sheer confusion at what had just happened… Jane shook his head. He'd never imagined that the first time that he'd kiss her, that it would be under duress. Of course, he had taken the time to imagine it (and a little bit more, but she didn't need to know that), he was only a man after all and however much she tried to deny it, she was a beautiful woman.

"Hey," he murmured.

"Hi."

"Red really suits you, you know," he offered. "You should wear it more often."

She shrugged and he caught her hand, not to check the time as he had done so many times in the past, but to gently massage her hand and wrist. A flicker of a smile appeared when she didn't pull it away as fast as she could. Lisbon's eyes remained downcast however, she knew if she looked at him, she was liable to break down. Stupid Minelli and his stupid party to try and improve morale. Her stupid team's stupid ideas to try and sort out… something. Stupid herself for falling for it, for falling for _him_.

"Is this the part where you tell me that it all meant nothing and you were just playing to the audience?"

"No."

Jane knew full well that there was a crowd of people huddled in the door, wanting to see what was going on, but not willing to venture out into the cold December night. Instead, he lifted her hand, unfurled her fingers and gently pressed a kiss to her palm, all the while his eyes remaining focused on her face. He smiled as she eventually tore her eyes from the ground and found the courage to actually look at him.

"Next time, we won't have an audience, Teresa," he whispered. "How does that sound?"

She shrugged for a second time and he watched her with a pitiful expression.

"Please?"

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay," she nodded. "Though I must be going insane to agree to this."

"You must," he agreed. "Come on, I'll see if I can find you some eggnog inside."

The music was already blaring once more by the time they managed to work their way inside and straight to the bar. A guilty looking Van Pelt shot Lisbon an embarrassed smile before she was whisked away by Rigsby but Jane was soon back by her side anyway. She buried her nose in the eggnog that he handed her with a blithe smile, acting as if virtually nothing had happened between them five minutes beforehand. Her team were all way too sneaky for their own good, she decided. Knowing them, one of them could quite possibly have spiked the drink in her hand just to 'hurry things along', not realizing the conversation that they had just shared outside. As the thought crossed her mind, she practically threw her drink across the bar, much to the outrage of the serving staff. Embarrassed, she buried her head in her arms, waiting for the self-induced blush to dissipate, only slightly comforted by the fact that one of Jane's hands had found its way onto her back. Teresa Lisbon wasn't a scrooge, but the sooner the holiday season was over and everybody could get back to a relative state of normality, the better.

But then again… that'd mean that St. Valentine's Day would be a mere few weeks away.

Oh. Dear. God.

end


	26. Forgive me

**A/N:** This was written for Divinia Serit in the LiveJournal music meme. The song is 'Bare Hands' by Delta Goodrem. So, you know the not-so-Secret Secret Santa that Div and I did (and technically still are doing) for one another? Well, I sent her these lyrics as a prompt along with the other. When she picked out the number that corresponded to _Bare Hands_, she found it hilarious and insisted I wrote it. BUT if you find yourself inspired, I'm still interested in your interpretation, twin!

Thanks to: yaba, Chiisana Minako, Divinia Serit, Jisbon-Fan, dizzy - in - the - izzy, Frogster, Odakota Rose, Ebony10, shopping-luva91, Penelope Louise, IGottaFindYou, Viktorija, Miss Nita Girl and hardly loquacious for reviewing _Mistletoe Mischief_. And HL - am I really building that much of a reputation when it comes to character death?!

x tromana

* * *

**Title: **Bare Hands  
**Author: **tromana  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon  
**Disclaimer: **I didn't get it for Christmas, so it's still not mine.  
**Summary:** Love hurts, so maybe it's easier not to love at all?  
**Notes: **50 Phrases: forgive me

**Bare Hands**

_Hearts that don't love can't be broken  
__A dream stays a dream if not woken  
__If you cannot bleed then you won't understand  
__Come pick me red roses with your bare hands_

He loves me.

He loves me not.

He loves me.

He loves me not.

It's sacrilege, almost, destroying such a perfect rose. But nervous fingers do strange, strange things, so it's unsurprising that Teresa Lisbon's hands are making light work of the innocent, fragile flower. The velvety petals fall daintily onto her desk, littering it with splashes of deep red that could so easily represent blood staining a previously untarnished surface.

Like blood that has been spilt from a victim's body, in a way.

She can't help but think of it like that; after all, for more years than she cares to remember, cares to admit to, Lisbon has dedicated her life to catching criminals, righting wrongs, seeking justice for those who need and deserve it. Blood lost is never too far from her mind, because there's always another body, limp and lifeless with a pool of the red liquid nearby.

She's shed her fair share as well. From gun shot wounds, from being caught with a knife blood, being beaten to a pulp, grazes… paper cuts. Thank goodness red blood cells can replenish themselves at a relatively fast rate, otherwise she'd be in deep trouble herself by now. Though it has never been life-threatening, well, relatively speaking, her blood just keeps on spilling.

Like her tears would, if only she let them.

But she's not going to. Instead, she'll let these petals spill over her desk.

Roses have many connotations, she's sure, but Lisbon doesn't want to think much about them. All she knows is that, whatever the meaning, they make a powerful statement and she doesn't want nor need to know anymore than that. Especially not now, while she plucks a red rose to pieces, petal by petal. It's a childish game, however soothing and relaxing it may be. But a flower cannot dictate the emotions one person feels, one way or another.

She knows who is responsible for the bloom's appearance in her office first thing this morning. Rigsby just wouldn't; he's obsessed with Van Pelt and even if he wasn't, she's far too old for him as it is. Cho is simply like a brother to her and even if he did have inclinations, he would never dare be so brazen, simply out of respect.

So, that leaves one final option.

Jane.

Jane, who had obviously left this bloom in her office, as an apology for accidentally accusing her brother of looking like a serial killer when he came to visit two days ago.

Jane, who was still grieving for his wife who had died nearly a decade ago and she just feels at a complete loss as to how to make the grief easier for him to cope with.

Jane, who given the opportunity, she would quite happily wring his neck with her bare hands.

Or kiss him senseless because the incessant flirting is not only driving her absolutely crazy but confusing the hell out of her too.

Jane, who is standing in the threshold to her office with a wry smile and an ever so slightly hopeful look in his eyes.

She stands to greet him, remembering that she had promised to let him take her out for dinner. To apologize, or something. But of course, it'll never be an actual apology because this is Jane and Lisbon can't remember him ever uttering the words 'I'm sorry' or 'forgive me' or anything like that. He can deflect conversations like his life depends on it and prefers simply to try and distract your attention with small tokens. Like the rose she received today.

One day, she thinks she'll try and take him on that front. After all the crazy stunts he's pulled, she deserves to hear those words, at least once. But that's not even taking into account the things she knows he has planned in the future.

Red John, for a start.

She doesn't love him, she tells herself again, as they walk towards the café that Jane picked out for their not-date. That Jane always picks out. Lisbon knows the waiting staff there are hoping that someday soon that she and Jane will announce their engagement, never mind the idea of them dating.

They're going to be sorely disappointed.

Because even if she wanted to (which she doesn't, she repeats, like it's a mantra she has to hold onto for fear of going insane otherwise), she _can't_. Because if she did and then she had to arrest him for the murder of a certain serial killer, it would break her heart.

And she certainly doesn't want to go there.

It's better for her to be committed entirely to her job than face heartbreak on that kind of a scale.

Again.

Instead, she lets him hold her hands, place affectionate hands on the small of her back, toy with her emotions and pretend that they could be happy together. A dream, a fantasy world that they cannot have, that they do not deserve. Lisbon hasn't let a man be quite so intimate with her in years, but still, she reminds herself to keep on throwing up those barriers.

While seated, she fingers at the rose that is decorating the table and she can tell by the look in his eyes that he feels exactly the same way. She's not the only one in this… whatever they have… denying things just to protect themselves. And each other. It would be so easy to succumb, if only for one night…

But you cannot taste the forbidden fruit.

She'd still go to the ends of the Earth for him if she had to, though.

He's part of her team, part of her family and that's what she does - for all of them.

She just can't love him, that's all.

He loves me.

He loves me not.

He loves me.

He loves me… not.


	27. I love you

**A/N: **Still no fluff, sorry Ebony10! But I do mean what I said about sending me some prompts and I'll see what I can do.

Anyway, sort of getting back into the swing of things, oneshot wise, which is a good thing when it comes to this collection. Hah. And yay, snow. Sort of. It's meant to snow until the weekend and possibly beyond, which is not a good thing for work. Oh well... I'll find something to occupy my time.

Thanks go to: mtm, yaba, Odakota Rose, twilighter890, Chiisana Minako, Viktorija, Frogster, Ebony10, IGottaFindYou and Penelope Louise for reviewing _Bare Hands_. Now I'm gonna do some real work before getting on with ch4 of Catch...

x tromana

* * *

**Title:** Three Words  
**Author:** tromana  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon, Van Pelt  
**Disclaimer:** Me not owning it is probably a good thing.  
**Summary:** She knows that she's never going to hear those three little words from him.  
**Notes:** 50 Phrases: I love you

**Three Words**

She knows that she's never going to hear those three little words from him.

Those three words that people seem to hold so much stead by, that are apparently so very important, a milestone in a relationship and such. Those three words that can be dished out so easily, but not taken back. Those three words that seem to have less meaning when said between kids these days. And those very same three words that start to hound virtually everybody shortly after Christmas until a day or so after February the fourteenth.

It actually doesn't bother Teresa Lisbon much, if at all, that she's never going to hear Patrick Jane say them. She's a grown woman, she's self-assured and she feels secure in their relationship. Well, as secure as a police officer can when she knows her partner has a desire to commit murder, at any rate. A couple of words aren't going to make much difference to how she feels either way. She _knows_ how she feels about him and she's fairly certain that he feels the same too. The way he can just spent hours at a time just watching her seem to say as much, at the very least.

She doesn't even remember just how they started this relationship, of sorts. When he had first been assigned to her team, Lisbon had been furious. Jane had already built up a notorious reputation within the CBI. He'd been passed from team to team, sometimes last a couple of months, sometimes weeks and once, even, just a day. Virgil Minelli seemed determined not to place him with his favorite senior agent, but soon ran out of places to stash the erratic consultant away. However, it wasn't the train wreck that she and Minelli expected it to be. Yes, they argued and still do, but Jane picks fights with anyone and everyone. What she hadn't expected, however, was the flirting, nor the positively electric undercurrent that stalks them.

It still catches her by surprise, even now.

Van Pelt would find it adorable, had Jane told Lisbon that he actually loves her. Because as far as the red head is concerned, she knows that he does, so there's no point in him stopping himself from actually saying it. It's apparent in his whole demeanor and he's just torturing them both by withholding those words. But then again, Van Pelt is still naïve enough to hold that much stead by words and not only that, but she's a terrible romantic too. She wants to be loved and cherished and she needs to know it, so therefore it is only natural that she wishes for the same for those she cares for. Lisbon has tried to explain how little it bothers her on occasion, but has long since given up. One day, Van Pelt may just grow up enough to understand that sometimes words are just words and it's actions and emotions that count.

Still, when Lisbon and Jane argue and Van Pelt finds herself caught in the middle, in more than just one way, all three parties find themselves just a little bit heartbroken.

Van Pelt, for she really believes that the pair of them are better off with each other than without. As far as she's concerned, they both deserve a little happiness what with the sadness that has enveloped both of their lives. She also knows there's more to their respective pasts than she actually knows, but she also understands that she'll never know more than she already does. Lisbon, especially, is particularly private and only opens up to those she trusts implicitly. She doesn't much appreciate being the one going backwards and forwards between the pair either.

As well as the hassle they are causing Van Pelt, it is tearing them both apart.

Lisbon doesn't quite know what to do with herself and finds herself hiding in her office more and more. It's a quiet respite, especially now that Jane isn't in there with her virtually constantly. Besides, it means she doesn't have to look at his forlorn expression interspersed with bitter glares. She knows that this is an old argument, one they've been over time and time again. But really, he needs to learn to stop hypnotizing suspects, because one of these days it's going to get him into deep trouble and she won't be able to help him out of it.

Jane simply wonders what he's done wrong. Which is why he's still trying to guilt-trip an answer out of her.

He'd understand it if it was something new, foreign that he'd introduced. Something that could cause this rift between them and make it grow by the second. As it's something they've covered before, he just finds it bemusing and wishes they could get over it like they usually do. Kiss and make up, proverbially speaking. And literally too, preferably. Although it's only been seventy-two hours, he already misses the flash of amusement in her eyes, the way she tentatively extends a hand to him and pulls it back when she realizes that somebody is watching and winding her up, though they both know he doesn't mean it. He misses her touch, the scent of cinnamon shampoo, the way she sighs - taking in a deep breath and letting it out again in a slow, measured manner when something frustrates her. Damn it, he just misses _her_. And that's one message Van Pelt refuses to pass on.

The journey to her apartment, alone, is almost unbearable. Jane knows she made this same trip approximately an hour ago and all he can think of is how he should have traveled with her, even if her SUV is soulless compared to his lovely Citroen. When he arrives at her front door, he's apprehensive and knows full well that she'll be more likely to slam the door in his face than let him in with open, loving arms. So when Lisbon answers and she attempts to do just that, he slips his foot in the gap, wincing at the forces it has to endure thanks to her anger.

"What do you want, Jane," she seethes, still not ready to forgive.

"I'm sorry."

"If I believed that, I'd believe anything."

An unladylike snort, she leaves her eyes trained on him as she opens the door ever so slightly, yet not wide enough to grant him access to her home.

"Damn it, I _love_ you, okay?"

It's so unexpected that she doesn't know quite how to react.

end


	28. Not again

**A/N: **We're still covered in snow. The cats are mightily unimpressed... well, apart from one, who strangely doesn't seem to mind it at all. The other 2 hate it with a vengeance, however.

Anyway, thanks to: Penelope Louise, WildDaisies10, WingfieldLegend, Divinia Serit, Chiisana Minako, Odakota Rose, Viktorija, hardly loquacious, Frogster, yaba and lisbonloafers for reviewing _Three Words_.

Another Delta-inspired oneshot from the music meme on LJ, though it took a while to behave itself. Grr. Now, back to writing more of _Catch_. Yay.

x tromana

* * *

**Title: **Fragile  
**Author:** tromana  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon  
**Disclaimer:** Be relieved that it _isn't_ mine.  
**Summary:** Teresa Lisbon is not much one for showing her vulnerable side.  
**Spoilers:** 2x08 His Red Right Hand, 2x09 A Price Above Rubies  
**Notes:** 50 Phrases: Not again

This was written for Carlisle Autumn in the LiveJournal music meme and it is based on a beautiful picture by Chiisana Minako. The song is 'Fragile' by Delta Goodrem

**Fragile**

_If people can see right through my eyes  
Like an open door that I can't disguise  
I won't be afraid from the tears I cry  
I'll not run I'll not hide this is how I feel inside  
A little fragile  
A little fragile _

_Sometimes I feel like I'm alone  
Sometimes I feel like I'm not that strong  
Sometimes I feel so frail so small  
Sometimes I feel vulnerable  
Sometimes I feel a little fragile _

Teresa Lisbon is not much one for showing her vulnerable side. Having three boisterous brothers is something that'll easily beat it out of you at young age, even if you were previously inclined to show supposedly 'weak' emotions. Besides, from about the age of twelve, not only was she living with said brothers but she was pretty much bringing them up single-handedly as well. She doesn't hold that against them and she never word, but any child who is forced to grow up too much too soon is always going to have a different, slightly harsher viewpoint on the world. And that's not just due to having a wise head on young shoulders; they almost find themselves mourning the loss of said childhood and holding it against the world somewhat. Lisbon is vaguely aware that she does this, with her serious nature and excessive desire to be in control, but it's not something she can change and she feels she has dealt with the hand life has given her admirably, at the very least.

It's raining, something which Van Pelt had been lamenting about all morning. She's brought a brand new dress for tonight, her first treat purchased solely for herself since getting the job with the CBI so naturally, she'd been hoping for a magical night and not to mention impressing Rigsby. The sodden weather is a blot on that perfect image she had been playing out in her mind for weeks. Lisbon, however, is more prosaic, but then again, she has always made it clear that she is only attending under duress. It just feels wrong to be going to an event and celebrating when not only was the whole institute undergoing such upheaval but they'd lost three superb agents. Still, she puts a brave face on it because it's what she does.

Lisbon's been ready to go for half an hour now, so has taken to watching the rain still pelting it down at the window. It also has the added benefit of keeping an eye on when that distinctive Citroen pulls up. Jane had promised to give Cho and herself a lift from the moment they'd been told that their attendance of this fundraiser was mandatory and no they cannot be excused just because of everything that has been happening around them. That is unless a case comes up which requires their attention, but that is rather unlikely. Instinctively, she lifts her hand and gently allows it to rest on the double-glazing as the rain continues its pitter patter on the concrete below. The glass is cool to the touch and leaves it there for a while, her mind whirring at a thousand miles an hour.

If Bosco were still here, still alive, he'd have been the one picking her up tonight.

A smirk would probably have danced across his face and he'd make a sly comment about her appearance. He wouldn't dare saying anything that wasn't suitable for one coworker to say to another, but he wouldn't be afraid to make his opinion known and tease her gently. After all, dresses really aren't her thing. They make her feel constricted and exposed all at the same time. At least seeing Bosco, looking completely ridiculous in his tuxedo but grinning brightly all the same, would have cheered her up no end.

Instead, she's just feeling tense and thinking of lost loved ones.

As she should, for Bosco was a damn fine agent. A damn fine friend too.

Maybe she should allow her team to talk about their loss, just this once?

After all, Bosco deserves to be remembered.

The only problem is, if she actively allows them to break that rule, she'll be opening the floodgates. Sure she has days when she thinks it'd be nice just to be able to talk to the rest of her team, unfettered by (self-imposed) rules and regulations. Just to prove to them that she's not this strict super-being that people seem to paint her as being around the CBI. Let them know she has days when she doubts herself and her abilities, that despite the fact that she appears to be competent on the outside, that inside she's falling apart. But that kind of closeness would blur the lines between boss and subordinate, coworkers and friends. She's not sure if she can remain in control of a team unless there a clear divisions between herself and the rest of them.

She'd also once told herself that she'd remain as distanced from people as feasibly possible so that she wouldn't suffer the grief that had surround her during her youth. She didn't deserve that kind of pain, not again.

The moment when Bosco's doctor had told her that he wasn't going to make it, she'd realized she'd failed dismally. Whether or not what she felt for her mentor was affection or something more is besides the point, because she does care. She cares for all the members of her team and if anything happened to them she'd honestly be lost. It's strange how Lisbon is only coming to realize this when everyone who works for the CBI, not just Jane, knew that years ago.

But Jane has always been the one to know when she's hurting, with her honest eyes and apparent inability to disguise her emotions.

And sometimes, he even knows when to hold back when it comes to mentioning it.

So, when she's so lost in thought that she doesn't even notice him pull up in front of her house and lets himself in, he knows it's one of those times not to tease her mercilessly for being such a contradiction. Because, though she'd like to admit her frailties to those she cares about most, they both know she never will. She just can't do that to herself; she's spent too long building up the mask she wears, even if certain individuals can see straight through it.

He allows his fingers to graze her bare shoulder and she jolts out of her reverie to gaze at him gently.

She wipes her eyes, brushing away unshed tears and blinks slightly.

"Ready to go?"

"Sure."

end


	29. Wake up

**A/N:** I don't know where this came from. I was originally only going to write Catch for the January challenge, but this bunny just bit me on the nose and insisted I wrote it, like the stubborn little thing plot bunnies can be. Never mind, eh.

Thanks go to: mtm, Penelope Louise, Divinia Serit, Chiisana Minako, Frogster, yaba, Cathartes and Viktorija for reviewing _Fragile_.

Thanks also to Chiisana Minako for giving me a prompt for this. This is another one of those ones where I go crazy and somehow fit multiple prompts into one oneshot. Heh, it's fun.

x tromana

* * *

**Title:** One-Way Mirror  
**Author: **tromana  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon  
**Disclaimer:** Unless I'm Bruno Heller having an identity crisis, it's not mine.  
**Summary:** Oh God. She's (not) sleeping in the same room as a man she doesn't know.  
**Notes:** Written for Chiisana Minako, who gave me the prompt: shiver. 50 phrases: Wake up. Jello-Forever January Challenge: new beginnings

**One-Way Mirror**

She stares at him.

Just staring, because she doesn't have anything better to do, not right now.

The other person in this room is dozing and has been for a good hour or so now, so she watches as the moon casts shadows over his features,

When she found herself caught up in that typical clichéd moment, two co-workers, with purely platonic feelings for one another (or so she tells herself, at any rate), forced to share the last empty room in a motel, she hadn't been sure whether or not she wanted to laugh or cry. That kind of thing can be terribly uncomfortable, even if the room is a twin rather than the potentially unfortunate situation of sharing a double, as you suddenly become aware of just how much, or rather, how little you know about those you work with. There's plenty of other things she could be thinking about. The case, her brother's wedding anniversary next week, hell even the scratchy sheets which are preventing her from settling down tonight. But no, Teresa Lisbon has to focus on the individual who is sleeping in the other bed.

And that individual just has to be Patrick Jane.

It's ironic really, that the insomniac is the one sleeping while she, who has never had any problem sleeping anywhere, is the one spending the small hours of the night laying wide awake and wishing that sleep would take over her mind and body. There's no logical reason for it, nothing is different to her usual sleeping arrangements. Apart from the presence of Jane, of course. But she knows him, or, at the very least, she knows the mask that he wears. He isn't about to attack her in the dead of the night or try and seduce her while she's in such a state of disarray. At least, she doesn't think he will.

Because, if she's honest with herself, just what does she know about the man _beneath_ the mask?

Nothing.

Nada.

Zip.

Oh God. She's (not) sleeping in the same room as a man she doesn't know.

That thought is enough to send an involuntary shiver down her spine. And not because she's freezing cold.

She doesn't know whether she wants to fall into a tense sleep, because otherwise she's going to be in an awful mood tomorrow or just stay awake and keep him in check. Briefly, she considers double checking that there's definitely no free rooms at reception now it's the dead of night or even sleeping in the van. Of course, the alternative is to get him to get him to wake up so they can discuss these issues again.

That's cruel though; she knows how precious sleep is to him and the fact that he's dozing now is a miracle in itself.

She continues to stare intently at him, knowing full well that this is a rare opportunity for her to observe him without giving away absolutely everything about herself.

He called her translucent once.

Not transparent, _translucent_.

There's a fine difference and Jane is always so very specific with the way he phrases things.

Transparency means you can see straight through something, like clear glass. Translucency, however, means there's some level of obscurity, nothing is quite as clear cut.

Like a one-way mirror.

For a one-way mirror isn't literally a mirror one way and glass the other. There's a fine layer of reflective molecules painted over it and whether or not you can see through it is determined by the lighting of the room. The brightly-lit room reflects the molecules and thus, the glass appears to be a mirror. The darkened room does not so that they can see through it with ease.

Very useful for their interrogation rooms, though most criminals are at least somewhat aware that there is somebody behind the 'mirror' these days.

She decides that there's a one way mirror between herself and Jane. The consultant is darkly lit, mysterious and he can see straight through the mirror and right into her very soul as and when he chooses to. She's so brightly lit and doesn't know how to control it that she can't see through the figurative mirror and into Jane. He's unfathomable to her and there's been many an occasion when she just wishes that she can turn on the light inside him so that she can understand him. Partially, because then it would be easier to understand him for work purposes.

Mainly, because she finds him so damn frustration and anything which shines a light on Patrick Jane and his motives is beneficial in Lisbon's eyes.

And however annoying she finds that, it's _nothing_ compared to the irritation she feels when Jane has the ability to take one look at her and understand everything about her. Even though he's been commenting on her personality and quirks for so long now but still, it drives her absolutely mad. A girl deserves some secrets, after all.

Doesn't she?

Perhaps it'd be wise to start again when approaching the capricious consultant? Not exactly a new beginning, per se, more a stop and refresh. Just something to get them back onto a more an equal footing.

Maybe by protecting herself, being more guarded, he'll open up to her just that little bit more?

Dim the light on her side of the one-way mirror so it reacts just like glass instead for her too…

end


	30. I'm not sorry

**A/N: **Yay for angst and Red John kick. I love those kind of stories all too much. *grins* This is an extended music drabble - I wrote it when I ran out of things to do when out in the field out work. So I sat in a van, writing music drabbles. I *love* my job.

Thanks to: yaba, WildDaisies10, Divinia Serit, Ebony10, Penelope Louise, ch19777, Frogster, Chiisana Minako, Viktorija, hardly loquacious, IGottaFindYou and finaldragon13 for reviewing _One-Way Mirror_.

And just so everyone knows, I am going away tomorrow, until Sun 31st Jan. So I honestly don't know when I'll be updating next. Possible/probably Tuesday. Sorry. :-(

x tromana

* * *

**Title:** Cry Me Out  
**Author:** tromana  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon  
**Disclaimer:** The show would be even more depressing if I owned it, believe me.  
**Summary: **She could lie. It'd be easy. No one would know. Well, apart from Jane himself, of course.  
**Notes:** 50 Phrases: I'm not sorry

_Title and lyrics from Pixie Lott's 'Cry Me Out'._

**Cry Me Out**

_You'll have to cry me out  
__You'll have to cry me out  
__The tears that will fall  
__Mean nothing at all  
__It's time to get over yourself_

Everyone saw her as cool, calm and competent, but goddammit, life just hurt sometimes. Just whenever she thought she was going to get a break, something else was thrown on her plate. She had thought that she had been making progress with him, honestly, she had. He had seemed sad far less these days. And he'd talked more, _really _talked, rather than saying one thing and meaning something entirely different. But of course, when she saw him standing over Red John's bloodied corpse, his hand curled around the hilt of the knife, she knew she was bitterly wrong and cursed her gullibility.

He didn't say a thing as Lisbon went through the motions with the handcuffs and meaningless words that she'd said and he'd heard so many times before. At least he appeared to understand what she was doing and why. After all, they both remembered that first discussion they had shared about Red John clear as day. The one where Jane promised that he wouldn't rest until he slaughtered the serial killer and she promised that if he did any harm to him Red John, she would have to arrest him.

The questioning is tough. Tougher than she expected it to be, at any rate. Not because he hid his secrets or was unwilling to answer her questions, but simply because he was Jane and it felt wrong having him on the opposite side of the table, being grilled, rather than sitting beside her. She'd been entirely unsurprised when he'd said 'I'm not sorry for what I've done' emphatically to her, but her heart had broken just a little. As far as she was concerned, they had been a double act, a team. Nothing and nobody came between them. Until now, of course. And naturally, it was Red John that had caused this irrevocable damage to their working relationship. _Red John _and she had so hoped that Jane's opinion would have slowly swayed until he made the right, legal, decision. But somehow, she can't help but feel like she ran out of time because of the situation she found herself in now. Even if by some kind of trickery, he managed to get off the hook, he'd never get the clearance to work with her again. By the simple fact that he'd been arrested, his name had been tainted. She was lucky to still be working for the CBI after she'd been framed for the McTeer murder and every day she walked into CBI headquarters, she silently thanked God for that very fact.

The months between the arrest and the case finally hitting the courts were a kind of living hell for Lisbon. Whenever she had considered the idea of Jane leaving her team, she had never imagined that she would miss him quite so much. It wasn't the case that there was less paperwork, less complaints and less arguments taking up her time, but she missed him. The way that he would deliver the entire team coffees every morning without fail. The smiles he shared with her and her alone whenever they pieced together a proverbial puzzle together. And yes, even (especially?) the flirting. The banter they shared that kept each other on their toes and made sure that something exciting happened even on the dullest, paperwork-filled days.

She knew, that given the chance, there may have ended up being something more between them too.

Instead, over these passing few days, weeks and months, she's had to mourn what could have been, what _should_ have been. Lisbon had never felt what she had felt for Jane with anyone else before, not even Bosco and she'd been fairly certain that she had loved him too. But still, she had to force herself not to think about their relationship that never was because she never had him and he'd never had her. In a way, she kind of felt foolish for feeling so sorry for herself over it. At times, she and Jane had acted like colleagues who barely tolerated each other, never mind prospective lovers. Regardless of that, when she was on her own, she found herself shedding a few lonely, private tears while she tried desperately to fit him in a box alongside all of her other memories that she didn't really like revisiting. She needed to keep a clear head, a rational mind for the upcoming court case, where she would be required to give evidence. Against him.

Even the impertinent questions regarding the drastic fall in her team's solve rate since Jane's arrest weren't enough to distract her from the sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach. Instead, they merely reminded her of the missing member of their team, which she likened to an amputated limb. They could get on well enough without him, but it sure as hell made things more difficult.

The day arrived sooner than she expected it to. An influx of cases and paperwork meant that time was eaten up far quicker than she had anticipated and soon, it was that awful morning and she was dressed in her smartest suit, hoping to make some sort of an impression. As she stepped closer and closer to the court room, her heels clicking against the parquet floor, the sense of dread slowly enveloped her. If this was how she was feeling, she absolutely cannot imagine how Jane felt. She knew that he hated feeling trapped and until the case had hit the courts, he'd been boxed up in maximum security, at her demand, with absolutely no freedom or company whatsoever.

She barely concentrated on the events that happened around her and had to be nudged several times when she was finally called to stand. As usual, she went through all the motions, swearing on the bible and such and eventually, braced herself for the onslaught of questions.

"So, Agent Lisbon, did you or did you not see the accused murder James Redford, the serial killer more commonly known as Red John?"

She could lie. It'd be easy. No one would know. Well, apart from Jane himself, of course. Quickly, she glanced at her hands, twisting away at her lap, seemingly having a mind of their own. Was she really willing to compromise her moral standing for Patrick Jane, though?

Why was she even considering that?

"I did."

end


	31. It's my fault

**A/N: **Okay, I seriously feel like I'm trying to make up for my week's absence. This is crazy! In reality, I wrote most of this whilst I was away, so that's not so bad. Right, right? I just want to start getting through all the plot bunnies I have as frankly, I have far too many. Something like 18 ideas and that's just for the Mentalist. Meep.

Anyway, thanks to: Frogster, lil smiles, WildDaisies10, yaba, Divinia Serit, Ebony10, Carrie O'Neal, Viktorija, IGottaFindYou and Simonisthecuttestmentalist for reviewing _Cry Me Out_.

x tromana

* * *

**Title:** Blood On Her Hands  
**Author:** tromana  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon  
**Disclaimer: **The characters would probably have to be immortal for me to own the show…  
**Summary:** He loves seeing her angry, but right now, he'd rather see her calm down  
**Notes:** Written for Chiisana Minako in a LiveJournal meme. Prompt: dirty hair. 50 Phrases: It's my fault

**Blood On Her Hands**

If there is one thing that Teresa Lisbon absolutely despises, it's failure. She understands it's a human frailty but that isn't enough to stop it from irritating her. Whether it be failing to complete a sufficient number of abdominal crunches in a minute (seventy is acceptable), answering questions incorrectly when watching a dodgy reality TV show (she doesn't _really_ watch them, they're just on for background noise whenever she's at home) or being unable to close a case (and therefore, not doing her job correctly), she hates it all the same.

She especially hates it if it means that somebody, anybody, dies at her own hands.

Oh the law can explain it away easily. The criminal wasn't coming down quietly, they were threatening officers of the law or worse, civilians and so on. Paperwork could explain away a multitude of sins. The deputy A.G. may be happy with whatever explanation she or Minelli could offer them on a few succinct forms but that never quelled the guilt festering away in her own conscience.

And that is half the reason she is down on her knees, refusing to give up on this man. It doesn't matter that he's a murderer, or that he has lost an obscene amount of blood, which is now coating her hands. She has to massage his heart into some semblance of activity. She has to try. No, she needs to succeed, for her sake as much as his. Her fingers knit together as yet again, she finds the correct spot for the thirty chest compressions. Fatigue is beginning to set in, but she refuses to stop, even to push her hair out of the way as it falls across her face and into his wounds.

One

Two

Three

Four

Five…

She barely notices the hand on her shoulders.

Six

Seven

Eight…

The hands moves and a pair of surprisingly strong arms wrap around her waist and haul her away from the dead man.

"No."

Her voice is a snarl, but the person holding onto her has long since grown immune to her anger and frustration. If anything, her fierce glares amuse him now and he loves seeing the spark in her eyes. Not this time though, instead he just wants her to calm down.

"It's my fault," she whispers, "I was the one who shot him."

He doesn't let go of her and somehow, Lisbon manages to turn in their grasp and bury her head into his chest. Jane is torn between relief, sorrow and sheer empathy. It's not the first time he's seen her kill and part of him doubts that it'll be the last too. She doesn't know how to react anymore and simply avoids looking at the body on the floor. He doesn't bother whispering meaningless words, because they'd be just that. Meaningless. Jane is certain that there are words he could say, but for once he is at a loss so simply takes to holding her and allowing his fingers to run up and down her spine soothingly.

In reality, she knows that she had been working in vain. The man's blood is everywhere now. Her pants, her arms, her hair even. Even if she had managed to get his heart started again, there was no way that he would have survived that significant level of blood loss. In a few days, when she's finished collating her report, the coroner will tell her percentages and such, but right now, she just feels comfortable trembling in Jane's arms. At moments like this, she feels as guilty as those she throws into jail should.

Slowly, he coerces her towards his beautiful blue baby, his gorgeous Citroen, that nobody else seems to appreciate the way that he does. Carefully, he buckles Lisbon into the passenger's seat and swallows down the remorse. The last person he did that to was a five year old girl, _his _five year old girl on the day she died. It didn't help that Lisbon looked just as vulnerable as she had. His poor daughter had been full of cold and doped up on cough medicine. Given a few more days, she'd have been back to her lively self. Where a cold was easy to shake off, Jane knows that the sense of guilt would never leave Lisbon, even once the shock subsides.

But little things can help.

Food. Just something else to focus on.

A hot shower to get rid of all that blood.

He would prescribe sleep too, but he doubts that she'll be getting much of that tonight.

Instead, he'll give her his company. He doesn't sleep much anyway, so nursing her through this rough patch seems like a far better plan than risking the nightmares. Jane has already decided that he'll look after and irritate her in equal measures tonight. If he annoys her, drives her insane, then at least she won't be focusing on today's disaster. On the moment she pulled the trigger when she probably shouldn't have. Or the aftermath, the paper work, the visit to the shrink, which he knows she loathes almost as much as the sense of failure to herself and others she is suffering from right now.

Oh he knows she won't appreciate what he does tonight, but frankly, she doesn't have much choice. He's taken that decision right out of her hands. Lisbon may not see him as caring for her, but it's for the best. As soon as they arrive at her apartment, he's going to send her straight upstairs and scour her kitchen for something edible. Then, he'll play it by ear. Find something to tease her about. The Spice Girls thing grew old some time back now, but he's sure he can find something else. Maybe the knitting, accuse her of turning into an old woman before her time.

Anyway, it's time for someone else to look after the mother hen for a change.

end


	32. What was that?

**A/N: **More fluff... don't faint! For Frogster, who asked for a sequel to Mistletoe Mischief and Chibi, who I'm teasing on MSN as I write this author's note. And I wrote this with a migraine. So obviously, I can only cope with writing extremes when crook. Ah well...

Thanks to: shopping-luva91, Famous4it, yaba, Divinia Serit, Chiisana Minako, WildDaisies10, Frogster, IGottaFindYou, Ebony10, simonisthecutestmentalist, mtm and Viktorija for reviewing _Blood On Her Hands_.

x tromana

* * *

**Title:** Valentine's Victim  
**Author:** tromana  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon, Team  
**Disclaimer:** Still not mine  
**Summary: **Valentine's Day wasn't quite as bad as she expected it to be.  
**Notes:** Sequel to Mistletoe Mischief (Ch25), which I wrote for Ebony10. Jello-Forever February Challenge response. Prompt: Love Songs and response to 002: candy gram on mentalistprompt on Live Journal. 50 Phrases: What was that?

**Valentine's Victim**

Teresa Lisbon was very much of the opinion that when one silly season ends, another one starts up to replace it. If it wasn't Halloween, it was Christmas and if it wasn't Christmas… well, the cycle was simply never ending. It was simply a case of the shops trying to make you part with your hard-earned cash to 'celebrate' whatever holiday they deemed necessary. Sometimes, she swore they just started making up extra in order to fill in a gap and make sure they don't lose sales. And holidays always seemed to make criminals restless and thus, making her job even more difficult. People somehow seemed to find even more excuses to do heinous things to one another instead of the goodwill gestures that the seasons were meant to inspire.

She doesn't mind St. Valentine's Day too much, though, not compared to some of the others. It was easy enough to ignore if you tried hard enough and besides, it was almost as good an excuse to overindulge with chocolate as Easter was.

But that was her problem.

It was already two p.m. and she still hadn't had even an ounce of candy. No, what was smaller than an ounce? A gram? Was that smaller? She shook her head and pouted slightly while picking up the pen to sign off on yet another form. The point was, this Valentine's Day, when for the first time in years she was actually seeing somebody (sort of, kind of, in a weirdly complicated sort of manner, but that could be used to describe the entirety of her life anyway) and she still hadn't had _any_ sort of treat to pacify her rather voracious sweet tooth.

And that was just wrong.

The few weeks since Christmas had been… different to say the least. She still wasn't quite sure if she'd forgiven the rest of the team for the stunt that they'd pulled at Minelli's Christmas party, especially as people were still gossiping about it. But then again, while the kiss had been embarrassing at the time, the ones they'd shared subsequently, very much in private, had more than made up for it. It was strange though, opening up her life to Jane, when before she had been so very private. Six months ago, the idea of having him within a mile of her apartment would have made her cringe. Now, she was somewhat disappointed if he couldn't come home with her for one reason or another. Apart from the kissing and spending a little more time with one another, their relationship hadn't really changed much. No imperceptible shift inside, like a sudden wave of emotions. No butterflies in the stomach whenever she saw him. And she certainly didn't want to sing about it from the rooftops. Lisbon guessed she was simply enjoying having someone share a little bit of the weight of day to day life with.

She hadn't even seen Jane all day, something which she was finding quite disconcerting. The man might as well have disappeared off the face of the earth. Scooping up all the appropriate paperwork to deliver to Minelli, she left her office and couldn't stop herself from glancing across the bullpen, frowning when the couch was conspicuously empty. The rest of the team were all sort of working. Cho was focusing on his computer screen completely, suggesting that he had already finished his work and was currently getting frustrated with Solitaire. Rigsby, pen in one hand and a sandwich in the other, was staring at Van Pelt while she worked studiously, having seemingly managed to forget about both the objects he was holding. Lisbon knew she should really berate them and ask them where the hell Jane had disappeared off to, but quickly decided to give them an extra five minutes and finish her errands first. The case they were meant to be working on had hit a natural lull and it was simply a case of waiting for forensics to work their magic with the fingerprinting on the knife. If she'd known where Jane was, she would have gone to question the deceased's ex-husband, the most likely suspect, again, but that wasn't possible.

By six p.m., Lisbon was feeling rather irritated. Partially, because Jane had been AWOL all day and partially because the case was still stuck in a rut. The results of the fingerprinting had been delayed and when she and Cho had visited the husband, he had been so drunk that he'd ended up being hospitalized. She hated days where things just felt like they were going absolutely nowhere, so it was a relief to finally leave work and be able to head home. She jumped slightly when music blared out of the speakers, some terrible power ballad to suit the day's festivities, filling her car. Something which, given the day and the complete lack of Jane, she really wasn't in the mood for, especially after enduring them throughout all the rushing around dealing with their suspect. Scowling, she prodded at the buttons on the car radio until finally, the machine ceased to make an infernal racket. She really didn't care that Celine Dion's heart would go on and on (and on and on and on, or so it seemed) nor that Lady Gaga thought that she and her would be an excellent example of a bad romance. She snorted. Obviously Ms. Gaga had never actually met Jane. Lisbon knew that she cared deeply for Jane now and hoped that her feelings were reciprocated. That, however, did not change the fact she was sort-of dating a man who wanted to effectively throw his life away due to some hapless revenge quest. Jane's obsession scared her a little (well, a lot) and she just wished there was a way that she could temper his fervor. But reminding Jane that life was worth living sometimes felt like as pointless a quest as trying to persuade a lion that vegetarianism was a good idea.

When she arrived home, she frowned almost instantaneously. Lisbon was careful when it came to locks, saving power and such, so when she saw her kitchen light was on, she knew immediately that something was amiss. Though, it didn't take her long to realize what was probably going on and relax slightly. She'd wondered where her spare set of house keys had gone from her desk at work and had merely assumed that they had gotten piled under all the paperwork she'd absent-mindedly shoved in there. Tutting slightly, she realized she should have known that Jane had taken them; the question was how long ago? As quietly as possible, she opened the front door and crept inside, only for Jane to hear it click shut again, wheel around and beam at her.

"You're earlier than I expected."

"What are you doing here, Jane?"

In a couple of easy steps, he was by her side and took hold of one of her hands, lacing his fingers between hers. She wasn't that easily distracted, however and just narrowed her eyes slightly in response.

"Surprise?"

"Well?"

"Dinner. I assume you were just going to have that frozen chicken dinner again if I hadn't done something about it," he answered, eventually. "There's always far too much salt in them. Leaves you dehydrated. Causes headaches."

"But…"

"And can't I surprise you on Valentine's Day, of all days?"

"Oh, I guess so," she replied, giving up relatively quickly. "I'm not going to have much choice anyway, am I?"

"No," he answered immediately, grinning broadly.

It didn't take him long to serve the food and she sat, watching with eagle eyes as he fussed around her. Dinner was a quiet affair and they ate slowly, enjoying the strains of Beethoven rather than the uninspired love songs that seemed to be the theme of the day. With light conversation and good food, Lisbon slowly found herself relaxing, simply relieved that Jane hadn't decided it would be a good idea to fall for all the kitsch that would have been so easy. All in all, it could have been a lot worse, with him pulling some kind of stunt like attempting to serenade her for a week, lavishing her with tacky gifts or possibly something even worse. But then again, that would all have been far too easy for him. At least this was nice…

She jumped when her smoke alarm cut through the peace and immediately glared at Jane before rushing towards the kitchen. Lisbon quickly threw open a couple of windows while he turned off the oven and pulled something out. He couldn't believe he'd made such a basic mistake as forgetting to turn the oven off and promptly decided to blame Lisbon's early arrival.

"Oops?" Jane spoke tentatively.

"What _was_ that?"

As the billowing smoke finally died down, a shriveled, burnt mess appeared on the work surface. It looked far from edible. If anything, it looked as if it would break teeth if you even dared to try biting into it.

"It was meant to be a cake."

"You've spent all day burning cakes instead of working?"

"Obviously."

"Instead of trying to burn my house down, I'd have preferred it if you came into work, you know."

"But it's the thought that counts, right?"

With a shy nod, she rolled onto her tiptoes and placed a kiss on his cheek.

"You're right," she agreed. "So long as you do the washing up."

end


	33. Be brave

**A/N: **So it's been a little while since I last wrote a oneshot. I'm sorry! I keep getting somewhat absorbed in my multiparters and let myself get distracted from this. Then again, it's also becoming harder to update as there are less and less prompts left to use. And it's fluff again, heaven forbid. Well, fluff by _my_ standards anyway.

Thanks to: Chiisana Minako, kathiann, Viktorija, Frogster, IGottaFindYou, WildDaisies10, Iloveplotbunnies, yaba, Ebony10, mtm, Divinia Serit, simonisthecutestmentalist and WingfieldLegend for reviewing _Valentine's Victim_.

x tromana

* * *

**Title:** Fearless  
**Author:** tromana  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon  
**Disclaimer:** I'm just borrowing.  
**Summary:** It would be nice if every so often, she had a hero to save her instead.  
**Notes:** 50 Phrases: Be brave

**Fearless**

She breathed a heavy sigh of relief as the simple kitchen knife clattered loudly on the concrete floor and the man's head hung in defeat. It had been a tense few moments and he'd been terribly close to lunging forwards and stabbing any one of them, or himself. Lisbon had been relieved that they had managed to talk him down at all, but it wasn't until handcuffs were finally around his wrists and the knife was enclosed in a neatly labeled weapons tube that she truly felt as if the crisis had been averted. That she didn't need to be, or at least appear to be, brave any more. The danger was over for now. But there was always another day and another criminal to caught. Her job was simply never ending.

When Jane slowly crept out of his hiding place, he glanced at Lisbon apologetically. This had been his plan and therefore, he felt responsible for it completely going wrong. Though, when it came to talking to their superiors, it would be Lisbon who would take the blame for it all. But as always, Lisbon had been his knight in shining armor, rushing in at the last minute to save the day. Most men would feel humiliated at even the very idea of having a woman come in and rescue them, but Jane wasn't most men. Besides, Lisbon was far more competent at that kind of stuff than he ever would be and they both knew it. Neither of them ever felt he need to acknowledge it though, there was little point.

Later, after they had charged their suspect and transferred him into the DA's hands, Lisbon found herself alone in her office, vaguely wishing that things could be different every so often. It would be nice if now and again, she had a hero to save _her_ for change. It was tough being relied upon to be fearless all the while, the one who had to willfully walk into danger and rescue to situation. Really, all she wanted was somebody to look after her for a change.

She thought she was the only one left in the headquarters, excepting the ever-diligent Van Pelt, who was typing up some reports on her behalf. But Van Pelt, like the cleaning and security staff, was not prone to disturbing her this late at night. In fact, there was only one individual who was prone to disturbing her at all. So, she had no need to look up as he approached, it was almost to be expected of him. Instead, she quickly closing the expenses form she had been filling in, she turned to face him. She didn't recognize the expression on Jane's face as he knelt beside her instead of sitting opposite her as he usually would. A frown quickly knitted across her brow as Jane grabbed hold of her wrist. Automatically, she pulled it back as if he had given her an electric shock and she glared in response.

"What do you want?"

"I want lots of things," he answered lightly, still (somewhat irritatingly) staring at her. "I want a new teacup as Rigsby broke mine, I want to try out that new Thai place that's just opened. I want…"

"Be serious, Jane."

"I want you."

She tore her gaze away, scoffing in response. Eventually, after noting that he hadn't moved a muscle, she nervously glanced back at him. Jane looked deadly serious for a change. Certainly not as if he was about to spring the punch line she was expecting. Still, because it was _Jane_, she couldn't seem to take him seriously. After blinking several times, she shook her head in response.

"Don't be ridiculous," she stuttered and his face fell. "Go away, Jane, I have work to do."

"You're right, I am being ridiculous," he remarked, "why would I want to show you…"

"Out."

"If you change your mind," he started, turning on his heels as if it was an afterthought. "I'll be waiting in my car."

Once he had eventually crept out of the room, she allowed her head to drop into her hands. She maintained the position for several minutes while trying desperately to regulate her breathing once again, though why the hell she'd been holding her breath around him, she had no idea. Jane was being ridiculous, they just couldn't. She wasn't attracted to him, he was obsessed with Red John and even if the rules allowed dating between two co-workers, she would never be willing to share a partner with a serial killer. Besides, he made it more than well known that he was still deeply in love with his wife. She wasn't willing to (technically) be the 'other' woman or to compete with a ghost. It wasn't fair on him and it most certainly wasn't fair on her either.

Looking down the barrel of a gun was frightening. But those kind of situations, she knew how to bring those under control. She'd demonstrated that skill only hours ago. Most people would hate dealing with murderers day in, day out and trying to find out the reasons why people do horrific things to one another. But she's used to that and besides, someone has to do it. The innocent and deserving needed their answers and justice needed to be served against those who were willing to commit such heinous crimes.

But that was simple, easy, compared to putting her heart on the line. Trusting another individual to that extent had never come easy to the supposedly fearless Teresa Lisbon. She'd been hurt so much as a child that now, she simply did not dare risk letting other individuals hurt her emotionally. If a loving father figure could beat a young girl, who knew what somebody without blood ties could do to you? But that didn't matter; physical wounds could heal over time. Emotional damage, however…

Maybe there was more than one way to be fearless? Maybe being fearless wasn't a case of being brave, maybe it was a case of standing up to what scares you the most?

And maybe it was time for her to stop playing it safe and to take that risk. After all, it couldn't have been easy for Jane to proposition her like that. He may not 'look after' her by keeping her safe from harm (if anything, quite the opposite), but he already had the little details covered. Like making sure she remained hydrated. That she never went hungry or skipped (too many) meals. That she was never bored…

She was visibly shaking as she grabbed her jacket and purse. Checking her watch, she headed to the elevator. He should still be there, shouldn't he? After all, he was far more patient than she was.

Lisbon shook her head. He probably already knew exactly how long it would take for her to break her own resolve.

end


	34. Don't blame me

**A/N: **Erm... I have a migraine? Everyone knows I write really weird stuff with a migraine, right? This is particularly weird and stuff. Yeah. I don't know if I have any other excuses for this. I suppose I could blame Rach as she came up with the prompt for this month's Jello Forever Challenge... Maybe I'll do that.

Thanks to: yaba, Simonisthecuttestmentalist, shopping-luva91 (hopefully you'll get the alert for this, hon!), Viktorija, Ebony10, mtm, Divinia Serit, Frogster and anthropologist for reviewing _Fearless._

Now... back to the creepy. Come on, we all knew the fluff kick wouldn't last long...

x tromana

* * *

**Title:** Keeping Track  
**Author:** tromana  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Red John, hint of Jane/Lisbon  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine.  
**Summary:** Oh wipe that sickened look off your face, it's rather pathetic. Why shouldn't I be proud of what I am, what I've achieved?  
**Spoilers:** Up to 2x08 His Red Right Hand  
**Notes: **50 phrases: Don't blame me. Written for the Jello Forever March Challenge. Prompt: Standing on the outside.

**Keeping Track**

I know what you're thinking, a mess. I'd apologize, but to me, it's an organized mess. I can find exactly what I want and need in seconds. Besides, I have more important things to worry about than keeping a few newspaper cuttings and tape recordings in check. I have to plan my next, shall we call it a, ah, theatric? Yes, that'll do. I have to plan my next round of theatrics and everyone knows that they need to impress. You see, I have a reputation to keep up. My audience has expectations and I, as a performer, simply have to exceed them each and every time. I can't let them down, after all.

Oh… I recognize that look. You're skeptical. You don't believe that somebody as slight, as innocent looking, as well, blonde as me can be a notorious serial killer, do you? Frankly, you expected a _man_, didn't you? Tsk. I've had that before. People have their preconceived view of me and it's unsurprising really. I'm a little disappointed in you, you know? I expected that you, of all people, would have managed to keep your mind wide open and expect the unexpected when it comes to me. But… like I said, I like to break the mold. I like to be different. Otherwise, what would the point be? Go on, tell me.

What would the point be if I was like every other killer out there?

Yes, I know what I am. I am a murderer, a serial killer, an evil doer. I hurt and maim and kill. I destroy lives and taunt, seemingly for pleasure. I am Red John. Well, Red _Jane_, I suppose, but like you, the media never suspects a woman.

Oh wipe that sickened look off your face, it's rather pathetic. Why shouldn't I be proud of what I am, what I've achieved?

What? Why would I want to kill women?

Well, why not?

Oh you're serious. Fine. I'll explain. Women get away with far more than men do. I am evidence of that. Look at how quickly the media labeled me as Red John. It took them three months after I first struck. Just three. Here, look, here's the first article using that delightful moniker. Why did they assume I'm a man? Because nobody thinks a woman is capable of murdering. Well, at least not more than once. People seem to find the very idea implausible, much like the idea of a group of teenagers killing their friend. Yes, I've followed your other cases too. Know your enemy, so to speak.

Anyway. I digress.

Women need someone to step in and teach them a lesson. Why not one of their own? And besides, killing men just seems unusual to the press. People always expect women to be murdered, it just fits the stereotype. Yes, yes, of course I've killed men on occasion and broken modus operandi. Not because I've wanted to really, but because they deserved to die.

Oh stop swearing at me, really. Who do you think you are? Remember, I am the one who is keeping your precious little CBI on its toes, after all. Without me, you'd grow lax, unprofessional and I know just how important professionalism is to you, of all people. Especially after I had sweet Rebecca kill your mentor, Sam Bosco. He was almost as important to you as Jane is, wasn't he? Yes, that was fun, sneaking around the building you thought was impenetrable. And Rebecca, she was so suggestible, so eager to please. So desperate to be recognized as something more than a mere receptionist. I opened up passageways for her, I honed her skills and she appreciated it. She _understood_.

Here. Read this.

Yes, it's from a few months ago, but you see, even the newspaper didn't understand her importance, her role and simply pinned all the blame on me. It's probably better for her that she's dead. That kind of media coverage would have pretty much crushed her, poor fragile thing. Better that she died in the long run, really, don't you think?

You don't think so? Really? Don't blame me for Rebecca's weaknesses.

_No._

I. Said. Don't.

Besides, she needed to die. Yes, like Renfrew. And Dumar. Nice work there, by the way. Your lovely Mr. Jane saved me a job there. I would ask you to thank him for me but… Never mind that for now. Yes, I'd have got to him before you even got a single answer out of him. I don't know why you even doubt me.

I still have the video from that day. Do you want to watch? You don't? That's a shame, I think we should watch anyway. Think of it as going through our memories together. You know, before the inevitable.

Ah, here it is. A little dusty. Haven't had chance to watch it in a while. Been so busy trying to keep up with you and your fun and games. I've still got to sort through that pile of newspapers over there. Honestly, don't you ever stop?

Well... here we go. Nice, very nice. Have you been doing martial arts? I'm impressed that you managed to pin him to the ground so quickly. Then again, Dumar is hardly a man, is he? I'm not really surprised that he didn't cause you much of a fight. You know, he didn't care so long as he got Maya Plaskett. As you know, I don't usually pick my victims to order, but in this case… well, Dumar and his family have been so very loyal to me. I'm surprised you didn't manage to pick out the link.

They kindly helped me out with this one… oh and this one. This one too. Yes, I think that's it.

Yes, I do have articles relating to every killing. I'm rather proud of my little collection. It's my way of keeping in touch with my audience. It's my way of keeping in touch with _you_. Besides, doesn't it look rather impressive? My articles, my videos, all watching you develop and grow as individuals and a team.

I suppose you could say that I've always been the sixth member of your team, the one hiding in the shadows. The one keeping an eye on you and honing your skills, developing you all. I'm certainly the third person in your relationship with Patrick. Oh don't look at me like that, everybody knows you're soft on him, you've never appeared as cold-hearted and hard as you'd like. I've enjoyed keeping an eye on you all, from here, my little hideaway. I would have dusted for you, but really, it was you who forced my hand. If you'd just had the patience to wait five more minutes, than maybe, just maybe, I'd have had time. But you've always been terribly impatient, haven't you?

What was that? It sounded like a car backfiring… That's probably all it was, so you can stop looking so hopeful. And please stop wrestling at your bonds, it's so undignified.

What? What did you say?

You really think that Patrick Jane will get here in time?

Hah.

Think again.

end


	35. Just behave

**A/N: **I'm a slave to the plot bunnies. I'm sort of, kind of, maybe contemplating a sequel to Pretty Lies. And they made me write this.

It's based on the promo for 2x17 and a sort of wish for how I want a certain scene to play out. Of course, it won't though. It'll be much better than this. Anyway, if you're staying spoiler-free I advise you don't read - or at least come back and read after 2x17 has been broadcast and then point and laugh. I won't mind.

A HUGE thank you to Koezh for going back and reviewing every single chapter. You completely rock! And thank you to: Viktorija, Iloveplotbunnies, AlternativeRocker, yaba, Divinia Serit, lisbon69, mtm, WildDaisies10, Nick Tarostar, Frogster, Phoenix Wytch, lil smiles, Simonisthecuttestmentalist, Ebony10, anthropologist, Koezh and IGottaFindYou for reviewing Keeping Track. And for all the well wishes for the migraine - it's gone. For now.

x tromana

* * *

**Title:** The Wedge**  
Author:** tromana  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon, Hightower  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine.  
**Summary:** Lisbon and Jane's thoughts on the latest shakeup at the CBI. SPOILERS.  
**Spoilers:** 2x17 The Red Box  
**Notes:** Based on the promo for 2x17. I couldn't get the dialogue out of my head. In the end I just gave up trying. 50 phrases: just behave

**The Wedge**

"This is perfect."

"She likes you, I can tell."

"Yeah. Right. I might as well go pack away my things now."

"Really? Why?"

"She's given _you_ free reign. I'll be out of here by the end of the week."

"Really, Lisbon? Really?"

"Yes, really."

"You have that little faith in me?"

"Yes… now I have work to do. Just… behave. Please?"

"I thought you said I couldn't behave?"

"Shut up."

Jane watched as she stalked off. Madeleine Hightower was quite a woman. She really seemed to have Lisbon rattled.

***

Lisbon knew exactly what Madeleine Hightower was doing and if their roles had been reversed, she knew that she probably would have done exactly the same thing. While they had a stellar close rate, they also had several whole filing cabinets dedicated to the law suits Jane had racked up in the short time he'd been in the employment of the CBI. Minelli had no doubt confided in Hightower all the ways he'd tried to help Lisbon bring Jane into line, including all the suspensions and threats to his job. The other supervisors he'd worked underneath, usually with disastrous consequences, leaving Minelli no choice but to send him straight back to Lisbon, who had a modicum of control over him. The ex-director had believed that a little control was better than none at all.

But really, everything they tried had been a complete and utter failure and Jane was as impetuous as ever.

Minelli had never resorted to threatening her position though. But then again, during his reign, she'd almost been the CBI's golden girl. That was because Minelli had handpicked her out of a selection of candidates, always had some hand in her development as an agent and to be frank, he simply liked her. She had never expected to have that similar kind of bias from the new boss, but it still hurt her to know that the new woman in charge wasn't afraid to fire her if Jane didn't come into line - and fast. Lisbon didn't doubt that Hightower would either. If the woman wanted to show that she was completely in control of the CBI and her subordinates, she'd have to be true to her word.

She wondered just when they'd become close enough for her to become leverage for Hightower against Jane. Lisbon had always been a bit of a loner as a child and had craved her own space despite living in a bustling household. As she'd grown older and left her family life behind, she'd thrived on her own. Of course she could always work within a team structure, but that was different. She'd never let herself get close enough to colleagues to have them used against her, or her against them. But her inability to leave something, or rather, someone, broken alone had become the flaw in her otherwise fool-proof armor and Jane was going to be her undoing. When she'd first met the man, she'd had a feeling that he was too. And now she was on the verge of being proved absolutely correct.

In any other world, she knew her job would be secure. Lisbon knew she was an excellent agent and a good team leader, but that simply wasn't enough. Good agents can be retrained, people can be molded into senior agents. Jane's skills were unique. That was why it was her job on the line rather than Jane's.

And she couldn't help but hate him a just a little for that.

***

Jane was uncomfortable with the whole situation. Madeleine Hightower naturally had wanted to make her stamp on the CBI and she had the whole of the SCU running scared. Poor Van Pelt and Rigsby were facing the biggest moral dilemma of their lives and he genuinely felt sorry for them. Cho hadn't escaped a serious talking to, especially with allowing himself to get involved with his old gang recently. And of course, there was Lisbon.

She was absolutely _terrified _because of these new changes.

It had taken Hightower's threat for him to realize just how close he'd grown to the petite senior agent. Though he hadn't paid any particular attention to it before, he genuinely treasured their friendship and almost needed her care and attention. He didn't want to work underneath anybody else and hated this wedge that Hightower had intentionally thrown between them. After what had happened to his family, he'd vowed never to put somebody else in danger due to his own actions and he'd done just that. Okay so it wasn't exactly life-threatening but Lisbon was The Job and he'd seen just how important it was to her when she had come so close to losing it before. And besides she was practically the definition of a CBI agent. Heck, if you looked in the CBI textbook, there was probably a picture of her by it. Probably literally, knowing just how much of a chronic over-achiever she was. Hightower wouldn't really want to lose an asset like Lisbon, would she?

It hurt to think that Hightower has had to resort to using Lisbon in order to simply reduce the number of lawsuits the CBI has to face because of his actions. He was the one who was responsible, not her.

He comforted himself slightly with the thought that if, if Hightower did eventually fire Lisbon, something which he really didn't want to happen, at least she was a highly skilled individual. There were plenty of jobs she could easily fit into and excel with how she had developed at the CBI. Anybody would be lucky to hire her.

Nobody else would have the patience to stick with him. If he lost his job, he doubted he'd be able to find employment again.

But she wouldn't need to look again. He couldn't let that happen.

***

"Gotta go question a suspect again," Lisbon stated, peering down at Jane, still uncomfortable with the fact that her head was on the proverbial chopping board because of him. "You coming?"

"Mmm. Okay. But only if we can get ice cream first."

She was still angry and childhood foods cheered anyone up, he surmised. She shouldn't fret, he could behave. It'd be difficult, but he wasn't willing to be responsible for effectively destroying her life.

"Ice cream?"

"Yes."

"Seriously, how old are you?" she asked as she walked away from him.

"I'll take that as a yes."

end


	36. I miss you

**A/N: **Okay, I changed my mind several times over what was going to be my April challenge entry. Didn't expect it to be this though, I was heading down a Five Times route when this bunny attacked and refused to leave me alone until I wrote it. But hey, what can I do? The bunnies are uncontrollable and unlike my real bunnies, I can't threaten them with vaccinations and the vet.

Thanks to: Alternative Rocker, Chiisana Minako, Ebony10, lisbon69, lil smiles, Divinia Serit, Koezh, Frogster, WildDaisies10, yaba, anthropologist, MissNitaGirl, Simonisthecuttestmentalist, IGottaFindYou, Cathartes and Viktorija for reviewing _The Wedge_. It sort of works now. Maybe? I don't know. Especially so to Cathartes who signed in anonymously.

This is my longest oneshot in this collection to date. I was close to splitting it up, but didn't really want to. Hm.

x tromana

* * *

**Title:** On My Own**  
Author:** tromana  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine.  
**Summary:** When somebody says 'I love you', it's easy to say 'I love you too'.  
**Spoilers:** Up to 2x16 Code Red  
**Notes: **50 phrases: I miss you. Written for the Jello Forever April Challenge. Prompt: wishes.

When somebody says 'I love you'  
It's easy to say 'I love you too'  
When somebody says 'I need you'  
It's hard not to say 'I need you too'  
When somebody says 'don't leave me'…  
- _Why Should I Change_, Dianne Pilkington (from Over the Threshold)

**On My Own**

"I love you."

"I… love you too."

She sounded tentative as she responded to his sincere statement. They were words she had never expected to hear from him, of all people. In fact, there was a time when she once believed that she was more likely to hear him utter the complete opposite of what he had just said. That was why she had sounded so unsure, so careful as she had replied to him. It still felt unnatural saying that she loved him, regardless of how she actually felt, something which she wasn't exactly sure about anyway. It had all happened so quickly, she'd barely had time to think about what was happening to her, never mind about anything else. Shaking her head with her bed hair falling into her eyes, Lisbon slapped his bare chest affectionately before laying down and curling around his form. She'd needed to lighten the situation, she hadn't felt ready for the gravity of his tone. This arrangement of theirs was meant to be fun; they both had far too much darkness in their lives to drag this down with it. And she did feel safe and secure for once, which given her career choice was something of a miracle. There was always some big bad out there, somebody she was meant to be chasing down. She had looked down the barrel of more guns than she cared to admit, received more work related injuries than she even remembered and felt as if she had a perpetual headache due to the stress of paperwork and pressure from higher-ups.

But in depth talks still scared her, especially if they had something to do with her emotional well-being. They usually lead to something frightening, like somebody declaring that it wasn't working or pushing for more commitment. Lisbon wasn't ready for either of them, not yet and especially not with Patrick Jane. While his hand ran up and down her spine and she listened to his regular heart beat, she waited for the inevitable 'but'. She was still processing the sudden declaration of love, wondering where he was going to go with it. Jane didn't say or do anything without a reason and that was what worried her most of all. Jane, however, seemed pretty contented compared to her, but that didn't stop him from picking up on her discomfort. After placing a kiss on the crown of her head, he gazed down at her with rounded eyes.

"What's wrong?"

"Hm? Oh… nothing."

"You need to work on being more convincing."

"Shut up."

"No."

"Damn you."

"You don't mean that."

"You're right, I don't."

"So?"

"So?"

"What's wrong?"

"You want a serious conversation," she mumbled, feeling thoroughly embarrassed.

"No, I'm fine."

Jane chuckled gently at her and she simply pouted in response. Sometimes, he made her feel like an absolute idiot and this was one of those times. Her fiery gaze softened when he shifted them both slightly so that he could place soft kisses on her jaw line and mouth. Eventually, as he allowed his hands to soothe tensed muscles and lips to show her just how much she meant to him, Lisbon slowly began to relax. There was still a good hour or so until they had to get up, after all.

"Don't leave me," he murmured, so quiet that she barely heard and her blood suddenly ran cold in response.

***

Lisbon thought something _might_ be wrong when she unlocked her front door.

She knew it when she saw the envelope on the table.

It was neatly propped up against the photograph of her brothers, conspicuous by the fact that it was written in Jane's handwriting rather than her own and because she'd cleaned all of her junk off it just before she went to work that morning. Without even thinking, she allowed the file she had been carrying and her purse to fall carelessly to the ground as she rushed towards the desk and scooped it up. Her fingers trembled as they attacked the gummed edge, struggling to gain entry into the vibrating envelope. Her chest tightened as she finally managed to pull the piece of paper from out, though not without it catching on bits of the envelope she had failed to loosen.

The words almost blurred as she initially scanned what had been written and then concentrated enough to see what it actually said. It explained why she hadn't seen Jane for two days straight. Of course, she'd tried to find him, but nobody had seen hide nor hair of him and a trace on his cell phone had indicated that it had been dumped in the bottom of a lake. Even his car was useless and she'd banked on it being so individual that it would stand out wherever he went. Unfortunately, he'd simply left it at the apartment he rented, the one which he barely spent any time at these days, opting to spend all his free time at her own. Basically, she'd been at a loss as to how to find him and had simply hoped that whatever he chose to do, it wasn't to get into trouble.

The confirmation that she was worth less to him than Red John hurt more than she expected and she thought she'd prepared for it. Obviously, she hadn't, for the tears were beginning to sting at the corner of her eyes. What they had, it had been more of a pleasant distraction than anything else. There was nothing serious between them; she'd been the one preventing it from going too far. Mainly because she knew that one day, she would come home to this. A confession that yes, he had killed Red John, no he wasn't sorry about it and that obviously, they couldn't see each other again. Her career meant that the moment she saw him, she'd have to arrest him because it was her duty to catch the criminals. And his desire, his quest had placed him very much in that category. Love, or rather, affection didn't, or shouldn't, come into play. So he'd gone into hiding to remove himself the situation. Something about being out of sight meant that he would be out of her mind.

She let out a hoarse laugh as the note slowly descended to the floor and her knees crumpled as she joined it, propping herself up against the table leg and not caring about the way the sharp edge dug into her back.

Oh, the bitter irony.

***

When she told the team, she almost felt like _she_ was the one who had let them down.

Then again, maybe she had? After all, Lisbon was the one who was meant to have him on a tight leash, especially after they started dating. She was the boss, the one in charge and he was meant to listen to her. But then again, with Jane, it was always 'meant to'. He may have heard what she said, considered it, but usually he would have gone and done the complete opposite. Really though, she should have attempted to persuade him to not kill Red John, to let them have him the legal way, however fruitless a task that would have been. Then at least she would have been able to say 'I tried' and held her head up high instead of living in this perpetual guilt at not having done anything either way.

Instead, she now had to focus on trying to catch him. To eventually send him to rot in jail. That was despite the fact that he had killed a serial killer and technically, he may have deserved it. The evidence was too damning to allow him get off the hook either way. In fact, the whole team was lucky that they hadn't been charged as being accessories to Red John's murder. Lisbon wasn't quite sure how, but somehow Hightower had managed to quash that charge before it even materialized.

It was Rigsby who managed to, not so much as trace him down, but to realize that he had, in effect been stalking them. It didn't take too long for them to be able to track his every move, to realize where he stayed with some sort of predictability. As far as Lisbon was concerned, he wasn't even trying to avoid them, he'd managed to make himself untraceable for the two days where he hunted and slaughtered Red John, so there was no reason why he couldn't have continued with it. He was more than clever enough and he'd had direct experience working with them, so should have known they would work it out sooner or later. Jane _knew_ how to disappear off the face of the earth and Lisbon was flabbergasted by the simple fact that he _didn't_. Perhaps he had just given up? Now that he had killed Red John, he no longer had the drive to try and flush out the serial killer. And since he carried out the vengeance he had apparently craved, he had lost her in the process. He'd always had the appearance of a man living for nothing, so maybe without any drive in his life, he truly was simply existing so whether or not he gave himself up to the authorities made no difference to him.

Eventually, it was Lisbon, naturally, who cornered him. She hated herself ever so slightly as she placed the silver handcuffs around his wrists and tightened them firmly. Blinking once to rid herself of the tears threatening to cascade, she repeated the action a second time, just to be sure. Jane didn't put up a fight - he might have done had it been anybody else in the team. But as it was Lisbon who was arresting him, he just let her get on with it. It was easier than fighting and besides, the situation was difficult enough for the pair of them already. Causing a fuss may have made her angry, rather than upset, but he simply didn't have the heart to do so.

Besides, they'd both known that when she finally caught up with him that it would always come to this.

***

With a heavy sigh, she clicked off the tape recorder and gave him one of her trademark glares. Jane didn't even squirm under her gaze, merely looked as if it was something he had missed desperately in their four months separated. They remained in silence, merely staring each other, almost daring the other to break the silence first. Lisbon knew that she was suffering from a mixture of emotions as she looked at the incorrigible blond in front of her. Frustration, affection, anger and even a little bit of love, simply because she couldn't help herself. Though she tried not to, when she felt something so deeply, she wore her heart on her sleeve - not to the extreme that Van Pelt did, however. And she was hurting like hell. Knowing that he was going to jail was somehow so much terribly worse than knowing he was out there somewhere, free. Though he probably didn't agree, she had a feeling that jail was going to kill him. Even if he did come out of the other end alive, he certainly wouldn't be the same man sitting in front of her at that very moment. All because he just had to keep an eye on them, couldn't keep his head down. Jackass.

"Why did you follow us?" she hissed, trying to make sure the rest of their conversation went unheard. "If you valued your freedom…"

"I missed you."

"You missed me?" she echoed, aghast. "You _missed_ me? Is it really worth it, worth this?"

"I'm sorry."

"Oh, do stop."

"You're the one who started this conversation."

"We wouldn't be having this conversation if you didn't kill Red John."

"I never said I'd do otherwise."

Lisbon clenched her fist. It was oh so tempting to just punch him, slap him silly, anything to wipe that stupid grin off of his face. Didn't he realize just how precarious the situation he had found himself in was? But then again, Jane's reaction whenever there was a problem was to smile his way through it, to let his natural charm help him worm his way out of it. Though she would vehemently deny it, she knew that it was part of the reason he managed to worm his way past her defenses. Instead of beating him senseless, she stood, closed the venetian blinds and then paced around the desk that stood between them. He opened his mouth to speak but she placed a finger on his lips, silencing him immediately. It wasn't as if he could get away from her. Jane was chained to the floor and handcuffed. Lisbon had a feeling that given half an hour without surveillance, he would have both restraints off, but that wasn't what she was meant to be thinking about.

"Teresa…"

"Just…" she muttered, choking slightly on the word. "Just let me have this. Please?"

Gently, she cupped his face in her hands and placed a feather light kiss on his forehead. Jane's eyes fluttered shut, having missed her tender touch terribly. Carefully, she maneuvered herself onto his lap, allowing her hands to migrate into his mop of blond curls, twisting strands around her fingers. Lisbon gently placed a chaste kiss on his lips, somehow tentative and desperate at the same time. When she allowed her lips to crash down on his for a second time, Jane responded instantaneously, equaling her ferocity. Tongues tasted, teeth nipped and she only pulled away when she absolutely had to, when she desperately needed to breathe. Within seconds, she was looking at him as if absolutely nothing had happened between them. With a softened gaze, so different to the way she had initially looked at him, she scooped up the recorder and placed it in her pocket before heading towards the door.

"Goodbye, Jane."

***

_I miss you._

She read the words over and over again. It wasn't a surprise to receive yet another postcard from him. In fact, she'd seen it even before it was written. Cho had a hefty stash of them poorly hidden in his top draw and every time he visited Jane, he took a few and then replenished his own stock. And eventually, usually via Van Pelt, they wound up back on her desk. Blinking back the tears, she screwed it up, not wanting to read, even see, the cursive handwriting any longer and threw it bitterly into the trash. She had work to do, she didn't have the time to worry about her emotions or Jane's either.

Lisbon didn't need his postcards, or other pathetic attempts at attention to know that he missed her. After all, she missed him too. She missed waking up with his warm form pressed beside her and arm draped possessively over her waist. She missed arguing with him over cases, seeing his smile when a plan of his came to fruition, feeling his hand gently placed on the small of her back. They said you don't know what you've got until it's gone and she was simply learning just how right that statement was. Lisbon had, after once being a rather lonely individual, had grown used to sharing her life with another human being only to have it stolen away from her just after she'd adjusted to it.

Now, she was just having to readjust back.

Van Pelt walked into her office to ask about a form and her face fell when she saw the screwed up cardboard tossed carelessly away, waiting for the cleaners to dispose of it. She felt like she was constantly shooting sorrowful gazes in Lisbon's direction but the younger woman just couldn't help it. On an almost daily basis, she found herself simply wishing that she could break her boss' resolve. Ever since the Red John and Jane debacle, she'd just seemed so sad. Possibly even sadder than when Sam Bosco had died. Whatever they tried, they just couldn't improve her mood. Lisbon had always been a bit of a martyr when it came to her job, but since Jane's arrest and subsequent conviction, she had taken it to the extreme. It wasn't healthy for a woman to live like that, it wasn't right. But trying to explain such a thing to Teresa Lisbon was an impossibility, but that didn't stop them from trying. On several occasions, they'd all approached Lisbon, trying desperately to persuade her to go and visit Jane in jail. He'd begged to see her again, and continued to do so, though her stubbornness prevented her from giving in. As far as she was concerned, she had to try and close the figurative door on that time in her life. Not only because it was her way of getting over him, but because she refused to liaise with lawbreakers. That was the reason she barely talked to one of her younger brothers now.

And however she tried to look at it, she couldn't see past the fact that Jane was now a criminal too.

***

Richard smiled warmly at her and clasped her hand gently. Lisbon froze and quickly pulled it away from him. The poor man looked bemused and frowned slightly, obviously thinking that things had been going so well between them. He was a colleague, friend of Cho's girlfriend, Elise, and she was the one responsible for introducing them. Lisbon had been slightly surprised when the Asian agent had effectively organized a blind date for her without even letting her know. When he said it was Elise's idea, he was Elise's friend and basically that Elise had threatened Cho (and her friend, for that matter) with deep and dark things that she really didn't need to know about if he didn't mention it, she immediately understood and agreed to go on the farce of a date. There was nothing wrong with Richard per se - he was handsome, educated and made excellent conversation. It was just… well. He wasn't Jane.

"I'm sorry."

The idea was apparently that she would try and 'get over' Jane as she refused point blank to visit him. Though, she wasn't entirely sure what there was to recover from. He wasn't dead, not like her family, like Bosco. He was still alive and well, relatively speaking but he was simply in prison instead. Though, she couldn't exactly tell the brunette sitting opposite her that. The situation was simply bemusing to her, never mind what he would think. And to be fair, she wasn't ready for this, however nice that Richard was. Instead, she grabbed her cell phone, threw more than enough money to cover her share of the meal on the table and rose to her feet, with an apologetic expression written over her features. Somehow, the atmosphere had suddenly become stifling and quite simply, she wanted out.

When the cool breeze hit her face, she allowed herself a small smile. Wrapping her jacket tightly around her lithe form, she lengthened her stride and started her brisk walk home. Lisbon didn't want to think about the telephone calls she'd have to make in the morning, the apologies she'd have to make to Richard. Really, she'd overreacted simply because he'd dared to reach out and touch her as so many people did when they were on a date. She couldn't help but throw up her boundaries, remind herself of how much she had been hurt in the past and take it out on an innocent bystander, when really it was Elise's fault as she had been the one interfering. Though, of course, like so many people, she simply meant well. She'd probably been sick and tired about hearing from Cho about how terribly sad his boss had become and wanted to help do something about it.

Swiftly, she dialed a familiar number on her cell phone and pressed it to her ear as she continued walking. She couldn't put more men, more prospective dates through that, regardless of what other people thought. Maybe she simply wasn't designed for dating, maybe it was for the best that she just worked her life away rather than trying to find that slice of happiness that she apparently deserved.

"Cho? It's Lisbon."

"Hi Boss. Have we…"

"No. Just… please tell Elise that it was a disaster and that I'd… I'd rather be on my own for a while."

"Oh."

"I have my brothers. And I have you guys, right? I don't need…" she muttered, trailing off slightly. "I don't need anybody else."

"Yes, Boss."

***

She tried not to act surprised when she got the phone call stating that Jane had died.

He had always carried that dangerous combination of characteristics around with him and even in jail, refused to shrug it off. It was a scary mix of ego, recklessness and absolutely no desire to rein it in that had gotten him killed. Jane had apparently simply looked at another prisoner the wrong way, then goaded him, only to be torn limb from limb, figuratively speaking. It was obviously one risk too many, one insult too far. Of course, it didn't help that she'd never sent him any signs that he might just have had something to live for, that she did care about his well-being even if she couldn't bring herself to visit him. Again, and almost as expected, Lisbon found herself blaming herself for his death. He was just another in a long line of losses that she carried on her own shoulders because it was simply easier to do that than to find somebody else to pinpoint the blame on.

Lisbon didn't attend the funeral. As she refused to visit him when he was alive, she refused to say honor him in death. She wasn't quite sure whether or not she regretted the decision; she mainly saw it as sticking to her principles. Besides, she felt she had grieved for him so long ago now, when she first saw that note on her table stating that he had murdered Red John and she didn't want to mercilessly rip open old wounds. It was bad enough that he had seemed to completely ruin any chance she could have at a normal life, a normal romance without him continuing to haunt her daily existence. Though, of course, even now Jane somehow still managed to do just that on occasion.

According to Van Pelt, the service was peaceful, nice, if a little quiet. That didn't really surprise Lisbon. After all, Jane hadn't really had many friends, he'd been too channeled into his 'task' of killing Red John to really have time to nurture that many relationships with other people. Though of course, he'd tried with her. She shook her head violently, wishing to clear the thoughts from her head. However many times she tried to tell herself that she was over him, that he didn't matter anymore, he crept into her sub consciousness and practically taunted her with his presence.

She picked up a pen and started filling in a form so roughly that the ballpoint tore through the fragile piece of paper. With a hiss, she screwed it up, threw it into confidential waste, picked up another and started again.

As long as she told herself that he didn't deserve masses of people mourning for his loss, she'd be okay. Better to be angry than to be sad. And any, he was a murderer, he fit into the archetypal 'evil' persona. Nobody should be allowed to mourn for somebody like that.

***

Of course, she carried on with her life. She had to, she had no choice and it wasn't in her nature to just give up because things were looking a little tough. As far as Lisbon was concerned, she had a public image to uphold and as long as she looked strong on the outside, she was strong on the inside too.

She could have wished that things were different, that Jane had chosen her over Red John. But what was the point? That kind of thing belonged in fairytales, in Disney movies. In real life, there was no such thing as a happily ever after. At most, and if you were very lucky, you might be able to experience such a thing as making do with a tolerable existence. And that was only at very best. Something which she wasn't lucky enough to have, of course.

After all, how often, really, did wishes come true?

end


	37. Thank you

**A/N: **So this is for faded out stars who wanted something where Lisbon finds Jane at the headquarters after going out for a night on the town. I was also inspired by a recent rewatch of His Red Right Hand. It's a sort-of tag to that, set about a week after the episode.

Thanks to: boutondor, Koezh, mtm, yaba, Frogster, lisbon69, xxxBekaForEvaxxx, Iloveplotbunnies, Ebony10, Divinia Serit, 4nim3BBFr34k, Viktorija and Simonisthecuttestmentalist for reviewing _On My Own_. It's much appreciated, especially as I'm feeling rough again. *hugs*

Another relatively long oneshot... heh.

x tromana

* * *

**Title:** Sad  
**Author: **tromana  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters/Pairings:** Jane/Lisbon, Bosco/Lisbon, Amanda Bosco  
**Disclaimer: **Not mine.  
**Summary: **Everyone has the right to be sad once in a while.  
**Spoilers: **2x08 His Red Right Hand  
**Notes: **50 phrases: thank you. Written for faded out stars and the LiveJournal community mentalistprompt 013: distractions

**Sad**

She looked at the form in front of her and somewhat unexpectedly, a couple of tears gathered at the corner of her eye. It had been a while since Lisbon had needed to fill in this specific piece of paperwork and the last time she had, Bosco had interrupted her to say that he might have some how, accidentally dented her car when apprehending a suspect. At the time, she'd been furious and had let him know it. Now, she was merely sad. Lisbon choked back the sob and dabbed the corners of her eyes with the sleeve of her jacket. Though she had somehow managed to stop herself from turning into a blubbering wreck, she still felt embarrassed that something as simple as paperwork could threaten to do just that. And terribly relieved that she was alone in the office, that everybody else was somewhere else, on some kind of errand, due to her bidding.

A tap on her glass door pulled her out of her reverie and she frowned slightly. Most people knew that the prefabricated offices in CBI headquarters were impossible to lock and that anybody could enter at any time. It made it easier to approach senior agents in an emergency, find something important if something happened to them (and yet again, being reminded of what had happened just two weeks ago, she found herself nearly in tears) and encouraged a state of trust between individuals. Or at least, that was what she had been told by Minelli when she had been first assigned the little room. After a few seconds, she came to her senses again, and called to whoever was waiting patiently on the other side of the door, granting them access. If she hadn't been so well trained in keeping her emotions in check, Teresa Lisbon's jaw would have hit the ground. Of everyone who could visit her at work, Amanda Bosco was pretty near the bottom of the list of people she could expect to see. But still, she was here now and all Lisbon could do was offer her a seat on the couch as she perched herself opposite her.

Despite her closeness to Bosco, she only knew Mandy vaguely, relatively speaking. She had met her on several occasions, at family gatherings that her old mentor had insisted she attended and the like. She always struck her as being pleasant enough, with an open honest face and being very easy to talk to. However, Mandy in mourning was very different to the headstrong woman she had been before, almost timid rather than somebody who was more than willing to take on an experienced CBI officer. As Bosco's widow settled herself down on the couch, placing her purse neatly by her feet, Lisbon cursed herself for not expecting this. She had been the one who had informed Mandy over the telephone that Sam was in a critical condition and again when he passed away. On both occasions, she hadn't said much and merely thanked Lisbon for her concern, appearing to have braced herself for the news. Then again, when your husband was a senior agent in the Major Crimes Unit for the CBI, you did have to mentally prepare yourself for bad news. Despite the fact Bosco had been an exceptional cop, he still had an incredibly dangerous career and the fact he had died in the line of duty rather than quietly of old age, some kind of terrible disease or the like, somehow seemed more fitting.

"You… um," Mandy started, rather tentatively, "you said you were with Sam when he…"

"I was."

Tears welled at the corner of the blonde woman's eyes and Lisbon froze. She wasn't very good at consoling people in tears, she'd spent too many years comforting her brothers to ever want to be put in that position. And women always seemed somehow messier when sad and suddenly, she felt rather proud for having been able to keep her emotions in check just minutes earlier. Despite the fact she understood loss, she couldn't help but wish that the woman would stop crying. Mandy's intentions couldn't have been to simply come and wail at her. In fact, Lisbon already knew her reasoning. She wanted to know if Bosco had mentioned his wife in his dying breaths and if he did, what he had said.

Handing her the tissue box, Mandy smiled gratefully and took several. Tentatively, Lisbon reached out and allowed her hands to graze across Mandy's. Again, she cursed her hopelessness at dealing with this kind of situation. Looking down the barrel of a gun was fine. Comforting and inevitably outright lying to the widow about her husband's final moments was something which she struggled with. She wasn't Jane. Deceiving people was like water off a duck's back to him. And she wasn't Van Pelt either, who had an empathetic streak that was a mile wide. But even if she wanted to, she couldn't ask either of them for help, partially because of the principle of the matter, but mainly because they weren't there to do so.

"What did he say?" she eventually spluttered and Lisbon felt her heart sink. "Did he mention me?"

She nodded and Mandy relaxed immediately, seeming to take comfort in that.

"He asked where you were," she murmured, racking her brains for what to say next. "He said that he loved you. That… that he wanted you to take care of yourself and the kids."

"Thank you, Teresa, for keeping him company during…"

"It's fine," Lisbon murmured and still, she felt guilty for bending the truth so liberally. She could only hope that if the woman spoke to Patrick Jane, that he wouldn't contradict her _too_ much.

"He was always fond of you, you know," the woman continued, still sniffing occasionally as she fought back the tears. "Sometimes, I thought…. Well. Never mind. I'll let you get back on with your work."

She stood and accepted Lisbon's proffered hand, shaking it firmly. Mandy had gotten the information she needed and though it would have been easier in a way to talk to the petite agent that had so enamored her husband over the telephone, she preferred talking face to face. There was no point in eating up more of the younger woman's time than necessary and Mandy was relieved that Lisbon was in charge of catching the bastard who had killed her husband. As she had known about her, if not knowing her directly, for years, it meant that she could somehow trust her with such an important task. Scooping up her purse and roughly shoving the tissues into her left pocket, Mandy headed towards the door. Bosco had said she needed to look after herself and she intended to do just that. Though half of her doubted that that was actually what Bosco had said, there had been something in Lisbon's eyes that betrayed her. Regardless, Mandy didn't have the energy to question it. There was no point in fighting over the past, it couldn't be changed. It was better to remain dignified over such matters.

"Take care of yourself, Amanda."

"You too, Teresa."

***

Her hands shook as she fastened the strap to her favorite red high heels. She decided she deserved this. Just a couple of drinks, to soothe her rattled nerves. To act like a band-aid, to mask the pain, if only for one night. Lisbon wasn't usually much of a drinker; she'd seen how much damage that alcohol could do first hand and frankly, if it wasn't for her career and just needing _something_ every so often, she wouldn't bother at all. She also knew that blaming her job was a slippery slope and that because of that she really had to be careful. But then again Amanda Bosco's visit had made her feel really uncomfortable and she needed to wind down somehow. It was just a case of keeping check of just how much she drank and not abusing her body as somebody half her age would have in a similar situation.

The bar was a bit of a dive, but she didn't mind that. She wasn't here to appreciate her surroundings, merely to forget. Lisbon was a little older than most of the normal clientele and therefore, she hoped that would avoid anybody trying to engage her in conversation. Carefully, she perched herself on an overstuffed stool. It had split and the stuffing was beginning to fall out and she knew the feeling. Everybody seemed to expect her to take everything on and to simply be able to cope, but it wasn't as easy as that. Sometimes, she just needed an outlet but she didn't have time to invest in a proper hobby or a pet, never mind a relationship. One of these days, the stress of it all was just going to cause her to explode and nobody would expect it because she always looked so calm on the outside. As she ordered her drink, a rum and coke, she let out a measured sigh. There had to be a healthier way for her to deal with her emotions than going out alone and drowning her sorrows.

For some reason, it wasn't quite enough to switch off those nagging thoughts. Then again, it never was. Maybe this was the reason her father always took it too far after her mother died? Forgetting everything in an alcohol induced haze was far preferable to remembering, thinking constantly about the loss and noticing the painful ache that constricted the heart each and every time the loved one crossed the mind. She missed both her parents, terribly so and she never really recovered from losing both parents so young but losing Bosco was different. Of course it was. She'd known him for longer than she'd ever known her Mom and he'd guided her through so much. And yes, she loved him too. However much Lisbon wanted to deny it, to claim she wasn't the kind of woman who fell in love with a married man. The difference was that she didn't act upon those feelings, she figured, or at least hoped. Not that it made any difference either way now.

She pushed the fourth drink away from her, deciding that enough was enough. It was her way of saying that she wasn't her father's daughter, that she knew when to say no and when it really was a drink too many. Standing up, she felt slightly wobbly and immediately began to regret the four inch heels, however striking they may be. Besides, she had no reason to dress up, she hadn't been looking to impress anybody. Eventually, she made her way outside, relishing in the way the cool breeze suddenly hit her face after spending a couple of hours in such a stuffy atmosphere. As she stood by the door, she glared at the teenage boy who was puffing away at a cigarette. This place was equidistant from both her home and the CBI headquarters and suddenly Lisbon felt torn, like she was stuck at a crossroads. Neither location seemed particularly appealing, not when her head was slightly fuzzy and all she could think of was the sadness that enveloped her life, but she had to go to one of the two. Eventually, though with seemingly no thought of her own, she headed towards work. At least the building would be somewhat less lonely; there were the security staff and the cleaners. It was Zane working on the gates tonight and he was a bit of a pushover when it came to strong women. She'd easily be able to talk him into letting her in, even with a feeble excuse such as forgetting a file, regardless of it being one a.m.

And anyway, her office had always been far more homely than soulless place she was meant to call home. She gave an unladylike snort. Dorothy may well have thought that there was no place like home, but as far as Lisbon was concerned, the girl must have been delusional.

***

The lights were dimmed low and for the first time in what seemed like a very long while, Jane was actually using his desk. An orange glow from the lamp he had switched on bathed his face and the papers in front of him in an eerie glow as he pored over the precious information he had been denied for so very long. He didn't like looking at the Red John files when everybody else was at work. The pitying gazes he received from others were irksome and the irritated sigh from Lisbon was terribly off-putting. So instead, when sane people were sleeping, he chose to sit hunched over the paperwork, trying to glean clues which other people may well have missed. As far as Jane was concerned, nobody else quite understood Red John right, they were all too closed minded because of the years they'd spent training to be officers of the law. Red John was too clever to leave the kind of hints that they would pick up and therefore, it was up to him to work out what the serial killer wanted them to know.

He jumped when he heard the staccato sound of footsteps approaching him and furrowed his brow. The bullpen should have been quiet for at least another seven hours, especially of women who were likely to wear heels that would make such a noise. Slowly, he closed the file he had been looking at and turned to see Lisbon slowly making her way towards him. Unusually for her, she was a little unsteady on her feet and she seemed typically frustrated with herself. Instead of approaching her, he allowed her to make her way towards him and she seemed equally surprised when she realized that he was still at the CBI headquarters too.

"Jane," she acknowledged, taking a few steps closer. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh nothing. What are _you_ doing here?"

She frowned, pouted a little and Jane suddenly found the whole image she was portraying rather cute. A bit little girl lost, but cute nevertheless. And considering she was Teresa Lisbon, the hard-nosed boss of the SCU, that was quite a feat.

"Don't deflect," she growled and sat on the couch, staring at him with owl-like eyes.

"I was looking at the Red John case files."

"Oh. Want some help?"

Jane shrugged his shoulders slightly, pulled the box off of his desk and sat beside her instead, handing her the file he'd been looking at minutes before she arrived. He hadn't expected her to say that, something more along the lines of whether it was appropriate to be looking at them in the small hours of the night, with an expression of sorrow as she realized that he was still completely focused on chasing down the serial killer. Instead, she seemed thrilled at the concept of something to do and buried her nose straight in the paperwork. Given the distraction of a human to observe, Jane placed the cardboard box at his feet and stared unashamedly at his boss.

It was obvious that not only had she been drinking due to the slight flush present in her cheeks and she was growing tired too. He'd heard briefly that Amanda had visited her and it wouldn't have been surprising if that was what had set Lisbon off on her destructive method of trying to stop the pain. Her eyelids fluttered occasionally as she worked against her exhaustion, fighting bitterly to keep on going. Eventually, her head landed up resting against his shoulder, her breathing slowed and Jane quickly worked out that Lisbon had settled into an uneasy sleep. Carefully, he maneuvered her until she was lying down before slipping his jacket off and laying it over her bare shoulders. She didn't look particularly comfortable, curled up on the battered leather couch, but it was better than her using him as a leaning post and drooling on the suit."Oh Lisbon," Jane murmured, knowing full well that she would feel completely humiliated in the morning.

Tentatively, he reached out and stroked her bangs out of her eyes. She wrinkled her nose in irritation and he couldn't help but smile in response. It was moments like this when he wished that they had met under different circumstances, when they were both free to feel however they wanted to feel instead of being caught up in the events that surrounded them. But there was no point in wishing for what could have been, it was always an impossibility. Even if there was such a thing as alternate realities, it wasn't the one that he was caught up in right now.

All he could do was keep an eye on her and hope to hell that the grieving process wasn't too tough on her. He may not have been able to love her, but it was possible for him to be a friend, if only she would let him in.

end


	38. Be quiet

**A/N: **Okay, so I don't update for a week and then do two in one day. Hm. Damn those plot bunnies is all I have to say. Now while I'm in a good mood (good news on the volunteering front *grins*), I'm going to see if Unbound will behave.

Thank you to AlternativeRocker, mtm, Iloveplotbunnies, anthropologist, Koezh, lisbon69, Frogster, yaba, Ebony10, Divinia Serit, Viktorija, forthecoast and phoenixmagic1 for reviewing _Sad_. Very much appreciated.

And Ebony10? Is this close enough to fluff to warrant those two updates in one week? *looks hopeful*

x tromana

* * *

**Title:** Saving Me  
**Author:** tromana  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon  
**Disclaimer: **Not mine.  
**Summary: **His downfall was thinking of her as being almost invincible.  
**Notes: **50 phrases: Be quiet. Episode Tag to 1x05 Redwood

**Saving Me**

He meant to remain cold, aloof, a lone ranger who waltzed in and solved their most heinous crimes without a blink of the eye. Sure, he was fine with the idea of dazzling them with his obvious brilliance but developing some form of affection for them, any of them, had never been part of the grand plan. The idea had always been to get them to trust him enough, prove that he was invaluable to them. Then, they would give him the every detail and allow him free rein on the Red John case and that meant he could finally, _finally _exact his revenge. And whatever came after that… Well, he was unlikely to actually have a future after either murdering a murderer or being killed by him, so there was little point in thinking about 'the future' as it were. Unlike 'normal' people, he didn't actually have one.

It didn't take Jane long to notice that Lisbon was a bit of a martyr, always had the desire to play the knight in shining armor. Possibly an admirable quality and it certainly made her well-suited to her position as head of the unit, but as far as he was concerned it was all too self-sacrificing, too limiting. He liked her well enough though. Despite her blinded attitude to work, she was likeable enough and Jane had absolutely no problem working with her and her subordinates.

He just hadn't quite realized that 'danger' was pretty much part of the job description.

Like any man, he didn't think of himself as a wimp and liked to think he could hold his own if he were to get into a scuffle of some kind. But still, he'd only been working with the CBI for six months or so and he had already lost count of the number of times he'd found himself looking down the barrel of a gun. And Lisbon coming charging in, gun drawn, ready to take control of the situation. She, or another member of the team, was always ready to save his skin, floor the criminal and pretty much save his life. He didn't even want to attempt trying to count just how many times she had done so. Instead of seeing it as a threat, he simply accepted that maybe they had different fortes to one another and subverting gender stereotypes wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Besides, she probably enjoyed rescuing his damsel in distress. It probably did wonderful things for her self-worth, which was something that women like Lisbon always needed more of.

His downfall was thinking of her as being almost invincible. She never seemed to get into trouble and never needed anybody else's help (at least, when it came to physicality) despite her petite stature. Even the tallest, most fearsome looking person seemed to automatically know and respect her authority. If she said 'be quiet', people rarely fought back, unless they were Jane himself of course, but he just saw that as being a test of her skills.

When he heard those shots go off over speakerphone, his blood ran cold. Nicole was shaking beside him, also scared, despite the fact that she was no way near the danger and she barely knew Lisbon. Jane breathed an audible sigh of relief as he heard her shush him irritably, reminding him just how precarious her situation was. Thinking on his feet, proverbially speaking, he made his suggestion to her and could only hope that the distraction would be enough for her to get out of there alive. And that Rigsby would hurry up and get his ass into gear and actually get there in time to help her. While Jane's strength was in thinking up neat tricks, there had rarely been other people's lives resting on whether or not they worked out successfully and especially not of people he cared about.

Wait.

Stop.

Rewind.

_Cared_?

Since when did he care _that_ much about the formidable Agent Lisbon?

Of course he hadn't wanted to see her get hurt, that was just human instinct. But since when did he need hear her voice, hear her utter a quick 'I'm fine' down her cell phone? He'd panicked until she remembered she needed to pick it up and speak to him. And it was only then that his heart rate to slow down to something more normal. Then again, since he had actually known her, it had never been her escaping a tight situation by the skin of her teeth. It was usually him, or on a rare occasion, somebody else on the team. Never Lisbon though. She was always fine. There'd never been any risk at her getting hurt or potentially something worse. And in the split second when he thought she was potentially dead, he hadn't wanted to face the idea of a CBI without her.

He didn't see Lisbon once they were both at the motel. It seemed she had already slipped away to her room, to shower away the grime and soothe her aching muscles and frazzled nerves. Jane didn't much blame her. For the first time since he'd known her, her survival had been in the palm of somebody else's hands and knowing how much a control freak she was, she probably loathed that. Knowing what he already did of her, she probably had to go away, do some compartmentalization and he'd see her again in the morning as unflappable as ever. And to be fair, Jane wasn't really sure whether or not he wanted to see her either. He had to address several new feelings that were coursing through his veins. When he first met her, he'd had to hide away the problematic lust (she was a beautiful woman, after all) but this was the first time he'd been generally concerned about the idea of affection. She had her own problems and it wouldn't be fair forcing her to deal with his considerable load as well, though she would probably accept it willingly. Lisbon seemed rather keen to try and fix any problem that came her way and he was one hell of a problem.

Come morning and he made sure that he would be riding back to Sacramento in the same car as her. No offense to the other three, but he wanted some time alone with her, especially after the events of the previous night. He'd let her drive, she'd crack a joke to ease the tension and then they would fall into the easy banter that seemed to have developed between them. Neither of them would dare talk about the darker undercurrents that had pounced upon them both in less than twelve hours and he doubted they ever will. She had whatever was wrong with her life (and he was yet to find out exactly what that was, but was determined to find out). And he, he had Red John. Even with that spark, they wouldn't be able to go any further.

There was a slight twinkling in her eye as she mentioned the 'old cell phone gag', just as he expected her to. Of course, he continued to bait her, just as he wanted to. It was easier that way. But still, there was something in her demeanor that suggested that she too had spent the night considering what could happen between them if they let it. Jane was certain at that point that they didn't need words to accept that mutual attraction, that thing that they were both more than willing to bury. For the greater good, or something like that anyway. That maybe in another time, another universe, things might have been different. In the mean time, they would simply be able to keep an eye on one another, offer a helping hand whenever it was needed. They would both have to accept the tentative affection that the other had to offer.

He was _meant _to remain cold and aloof, but Teresa Lisbon was quickly changing all that. And in all honesty, he didn't mind at all.

end


	39. I don't care

A/N:

Firstly, thank you to Div for quickly reading through this. I hate having a confidence crisis. *pouts* And migraines. Actually, I think I hate migraines more, but that's besides the point.

Thanks to: Simonisthecuttestmentalist, yaba, Koezh, Viktorija, Divinia Serit, Frogster, anthropologist, boutondor, The Mentalist Rules, IGottaFindYou and Ebony10 for reviewing _Saving Me_.

Now back to planning. Yay.

x tromana

* * *

**Title:** A Matter of Principle  
**Author:** tromana  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon, Minelli  
**Disclaimer: **Not mine.  
**Summary: **But did he have the right to thrust this specific man onto her as well?  
**Spoilers: **Up to 2x19 Blood Money.  
**Notes: **50 phrases: I don't care. Written for carolune04. Sort of episode tag to 2x19.

**A Matter of Principle**

She had never seen Minelli quite so haggard before.

There was something he wasn't telling her, but she knew it wasn't her place to pry. If he wanted to share whatever was wrong, he'd come to her. Teresa Lisbon wasn't the type of person to force people she respected to sit down and spill their inner demons at them. After all, she was quite adept at hiding inner demons herself and had never actually told anyone the full story of her past. She'd been close on a couple of occasions. Sometimes, somebody with a kind heart that was completely misplaced would sit her down and try and make her talk under duress. On other occasions, it might have been because a case grew a little too close for comfort and she felt the need to explode. But somehow, she always managed to hold her tongue, not wanting to place her baggage on undeserving shoulders. That kind of thing had to be a mutually agreed decision and not something to be taken lightly. So instead, whenever she visited her boss, she allowed the meeting to go ahead, but just took the time to gently remind him that she was more than happy to listen if he needed it.

Minelli glanced up at his star agent, the woman who he had hand picked to join the CBI from the San Francisco Police Department. She was sitting there, simply waiting for him to speak to her. Lisbon was a good agent and he'd been pleased with how she had developed over their time together. Though she hadn't been senior for all that long, already she was a force to be reckoned with and people knew not to mess with her or her team. Was he right to ask her to shake up the tentative balance she'd managed to strike with Agents Rigsby and Cho? She already knew about the rookie that was due to start soon and had even been helping him in choosing the right candidates, as was her prerogative. But did he have the right to thrust this specific man onto her as well?

"There's this man, he's keen to become attached to the CBI in a consultant's position."

"Sir."

"This man, Patrick Jane, he's not a psychic, but used to claim to be one," he started tentatively.

"I've heard of him," Lisbon replied with a slight nod. "But how would he-"

"He has heightened observational skills and solved several crimes for us before his family died."

She'd heard of Patrick Jane before - he had been making a name for himself in law enforcement shortly before his wife and child had been brutally slaughtered by Red John. Before the tragic incident, she had only heard bad things about him, which really should have put her off accepting him at all. The quiet look of desperation in Minelli's eyes hadn't helped her resolve though. She found it almost impossible to say no to him and one of her major flaws was her inability to pass on a challenge. Babysitting Patrick Jane could well end in disaster, she was more than aware of that. But equally, he could be a career maker. If she could wrangle him into shape, demonstrating her exceptional leadership skills, then that would impress the fat cats above her. And of course, the potential affect on her team's close rate had been tantalizing. Despite his reputation before what had happened, he had worked spectacular results on seemingly impossible cases. That had to make him worth it, didn't it?

"Lisbon, I must warn you now. Jane is everything a detective should be," he continued and paused briefly to pinch the bridge of his nose. "And everything a detective shouldn't. He needs a supervisor with the balls to handle him. I need-"

"Someone you can trust?" she finished and he nodded.

"Yes."

"Me?"

"Yes," he repeated, already feeling guilty about this decision. "But only if you want-"

"I'll do it."

"Very well," he answered, knowing full well there was no point in even trying to change her mind. "He starts on Monday."

Lisbon nodded and soon withdrew. She wasn't quite sure why she had agreed to take on such a charlatan. As she returned to her office, she tried to remain optimistic and to look at the positives of her new consultant. However, the cynic inside her was determined to convince her that she'd just willingly thrown herself in front of the proverbial firing squad. Lisbon shook her head. No need to jump to conclusions. She still had four days until she would know more anyway.

* * *

"Agent Lisbon, this is Patrick Jane. Jane, this is Senior Agent Teresa Lisbon, your new supervisor. I trust you to show her the same respect that you would show me."

"So, Teresa," Jane spoke, rocking on his heels and smiling slightly.

"It's Lisbon. Or boss."

"Fine, Lisbon then. Why is that? To put distance between yourself and your colleagues?"

"Something like that."

Minelli nodded at them both, indicating that they should take it out of his office. He had the distinct feeling that he had just thrown the accelerant on the fire and that anybody who got caught between the fiery senior agent and the blond man was likely to get burned.

"Your boss, Virgil," Jane said slowly, allowing the syllables of Minelli's given name to play on his tongue for a brief few seconds as they headed towards Lisbon's office. "He has cancer. You know that right?"

Lisbon stared at him, with her jaw slackened. No, she hadn't known. Why should she? Yes, Minelli had taken more time off than usual of late, a whole two months just a couple of weeks ago and he had even made his job a part time position. But still, she hadn't questioned it. The man had a lot going on in his life and deserved the reprieve every so often. And he'd never taken her into his confidence and justifiably so. He was her boss, the mighty leader. Informing her, or anybody else underneath him for that matter, would have shattered the illusion. But still, she couldn't help but wonder how she had missed something quite as major as that. An illness like cancer wasn't exactly something that easy to hide, was it?

"Of course, he's actually finished treatment, just waiting for the all clear," Jane continued blithely, unaware of her moral outrage. "And that on top of his wife leaving him…"

She had known about _that_, however. Juliette liked to be the center of attention at all times. So, she had left Minelli's life as spectacularly as she had entered it, much to his humiliation, Pretty much everybody within a three mile radius of the CBI headquarters knew about his divorce. Most people, wisely enough, pretended it had never happened to spare Minelli's blushes. Those who didn't either held a grudge against the man, had had him approach them about it or were Patrick Jane. Still, that didn't mean she appreciated that Jane was telling her facts about people when really he shouldn't, so as soon as she shut the door behind him, she rounded him with anger flashing in her eyes. Jane watched with amusement; the petite woman's reaction was really quite amusing and he had a feeling that it was something he'd see quite regularly.

"Now look here," she hissed, prodding him lightly on the chest. "I don't care how you think you should react in the office, but you don't go around revealing personal information about your co-workers. It's unprofessional and rude. Got it?"

"Yes boss."

As he left she couldn't help but wonder just how long it would be until he went and did the complete opposite of what she had just said.

* * *

It wasn't long until they were on the road again, a matter of minutes, never mind hour. Jane proceeded to irritate her in as many ways as he seemed able to think of. The man was clearly a child in a grown up's body and it lead her to seriously questioning Minelli's reasoning for hiring him in the first place. The closed case record was something but really, was it going to be enough to justify it to those who didn't approve of having civilians working for the CBI? Still, that wasn't her problem. She was the one who had to make sure she kept him on a tight leash to make sure that whatever he did do, it made them look good, though. And going by the brief hour or so they had spent in one another's company, she had a feeling that that may have been more difficult than she initially expected.

Despite the fact that she was in a foul mood due to the constant barrage of questions and his fiddling with her car on the journey, he was quite cheerful. It seemed he was looking forward to telling a family that their son had been found bludgeoned to death with what was probably a baseball bat. She shrugged slightly as she locked her vehicle. Different people liked different things and though she hadn't known Jane long, Lisbon knew that Jane was definitely _very _different. The death of his family probably hadn't helped, but she'd been quietly hoping that would mean he was more empathetic rather than obnoxious. Swallowing deeply, she knocked sharply on the door, well aware that Jane's eyes were focused solely on her.

"There's no need to be so nervous, Teresa," Jane spoke and she had to fight against her instinct to remain silent. "They're not going to do anything-"

"It's not them I'm worried about, it's you," she snapped in response. "And it's Lisbon, not Teresa."

"Who're you?"

A small child, no older than seven years old, peered up expectantly at Jane and Lisbon. He smiled a toothy grin, making the gaps where he had lost his milk teeth blindingly obvious. Making no attempt to call for his parents, the boy stood firm waiting patiently for a response from either of the two strangers in front of him.

"I'm Teresa and this is Patrick," Lisbon said gently, kneeling down to his height. "Is your Mom or Dad home?"

"Have you found my brother?"

"I really need to speak to your parents about it…"

"Dad!" he eventually yelled, taking Jane by surprise. "Somebody at the door about Neil."

Two minutes later, a man with graying hair, wrapped in a silk bathrobe appeared at the front door and after a brief introduction, invited them inside. Cavan Ferguson watched with disapproving eye as Jane wandered about the house rather than paying attention on Lisbon, who was trying desperately to tell him that his missing son had been found dead. When she did finally manage to tell him, his eyes widened slightly and he stuttered over some words as she explained patiently what appeared to have happened. Eventually, after having only half paid attention to the questions Lisbon had been asking, Jane grew bored of staring at the Ferguson's various knick-knacks and sat on the arm rest beside the brunette woman. Smiling warmly, he apologized for the death of the teenager before starting on his own line of questioning.

"So how long have you been seeing the lovely young woman hiding in your bedroom? Are you going to introduce us?"

"How dare you? I am not cheating on my wife."

"Liar."

"I…"

"Agent Lisbon, I disapprove of the way your consultant is talking to me. Control him."

"Now you're deflecting from the issue. How old is she? Twenty? No? Not younger surely…"

"Get out!"

As they left, but not without Jane having to duck due to a mug flying in his direction, he gave her the brightest of smiles and she couldn't help but manage a wry grin in response. Then she silently cursed herself for reacting to something as simple as a handsome man's smile.

"I wouldn't worry too much about offending him, Lisbon," he announced as they climbed into the relative safety of the car. "He killed his son. I'm fairly certain it's because he found out about the fact that Daddy dearest was cheating on his Mom."

* * *

When her head finally hit the pillow, she realized that she had probably bitten off more than she could chew when it came to Patrick Jane. The man was positively insane and completely uncontrollable. That meant she was going to spend the rest of her career cleaning up after his messes, however long that would be and she had a feeling that that would be shorter rather than longer.

And tomorrow, she would have to explain that not only do you avoid insulting colleagues but you don't insult other people full stop. It didn't matter whether or not he suspected them of being guilty; until it was proven that they were, he had to treat them with respect. That was going to be a fun conversation. One that, no doubt, she would find herself repeating time and time again.

Still, she wouldn't give up on him. It was a matter of principle.

end


	40. Trust her

**A/N:** So, the Summer Secret Santa influx begins. Don't say I didn't warn you. And yes, that means I'm finally getting back into _Unbound_, _Army_ and _Verdigris_, but it also means I have a shedload of new stuff to post. Hooray?

As you may (or may not) know, my recipient was the lovely boutondor. So yup, I'm blaming her. I'm sure she'll be more than happy to accept that now.

Thanks to lil smiles for betaing and to: yaba, boutondor, lisbon69, AlternativeRocker, Chiisana Minako, The Mentalist Rules, Frogster, IGottaFindYou, anthropologist, Koezh, Viktorija, Divinia Serit, hardly loquacious and Ebony10 for reviewing _A Matter of Principle_.

x tromana

* * *

**Title:** Haunted  
**Author:** tromana  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon  
**Disclaimer: **Not mine.  
**Summary: **Red John's death wasn't when he fell in love with her. That happened a long, long while ago.  
**Spoilers: **Up to 2x19 Blood Money.  
**Notes: **50 Phrases: Author's Choice: Trust her. Written for boutondor in the Jello Forever Summer Secret Santa. Beta'd by lil smiles.

**Haunted**

_"All, everything that I understand, I understand only because I love." _- Leo Tolstoy

Red John is dead.

Dead as a doornail, a dodo, your Great Aunt Patty who lived to one hundred and two.

Patrick Jane is there.

He watches it happen. He doesn't have much choice about that.

Watches as Teresa Lisbon slowly removes her gun from her holster, as quiet as a mouse, not revealing her position, hidden in the shadows. Watches as she takes a deep breath and squeezes the trigger milliseconds before Red John has the chance to plunge his deadly blade into Jane's own body one final time. Red John's knees crumple as he falls to the ground, landing in a messy heap. All because of a single bullet.

All because of Teresa Lisbon.

She unties him hurriedly, whispering rushed questions, asking him if he's alright, if he has a concussion, how long has he been bleeding for. Sounding almost apologetic for the fact she just killed his nemesis. Sorry because she saved him from Red John.

And Jane knows that he loves her.

But that wasn't when he fell _in_ love with her.

That happened a long, long while ago.

000

It's two a.m. and it is their first case together.

She looks exhausted, as if a good night's sleep had been cruelly ripped out from under her feet. But still, even in a sleep deprived state, she dominates the room.

As she should, for Teresa Lisbon _is_ the Senior Agent.

She approaches Jane, a scowl already written across her features. It's clear that she's surprised he even bothered to make an appearance. A tiny little tremor by her mouth gives her away; she wishes he _didn't_ turn up.

He doesn't take offense though. Since Red John, it's been very difficult to elicit any kind of emotion from him, except pure rage directed at the serial killer. And besides, she's as straight-laced as they come, so the reaction is kind of expected. As far as Senior Agent Teresa Lisbon is concerned, Patrick Jane doesn't belong within a five mile radius of any crime scene. She's only tolerating his presence because Virgil Minelli demands that she does.

So instead, he finds his sleepy, scowling boss incredibly amusing. There's no point in looking at the situation any other way.

He pisses off far more people than he should at the crime scene alone. The coroner, the local sheriff, the CSI team, even Kimball Cho. And Lisbon herself, of course, though some things go without saying.

Come morning, he finds that was probably not such a good idea.

For the coroner has a friend of a friend. That person just happens to be Attorney General. And that fat cat had decided it was a good idea to spend an hour or so reporting to Minelli about just how diabolical his actions were, though no doubt he had blemished the truth beyond recognition.

So, first thing on his third morning with the CBI, he finds himself hauled in front of the director along with Agent Lisbon. It has to be some kind of record; Jane's not sure whether or not he should be proud of the fact.

He's also not sure who is angrier with him.

But when Minelli starts to speak, Lisbon immediately launches into defense. It seems she spent the early morning post-corpse preparing for this inevitable discussion rather than catching up with that much needed sleep as she probably should have.

It's clear that she may not even _like_ Jane just yet, but he is still (unfortunately) one of her team and she now feels she has a duty to protect him from those with power.

Jane's never really experienced that before today. For someone with such an ego, it actually manages to humble him, if only a little. And it may not have been love just then, but there is definitely some lust going on.

000

It takes him a while to understand her desire to rigidly stick by the rules.

Her childhood had been chaotic. It's obvious in her whole demeanor and the rules give her a sense of order that had been woefully lacking when she was a child. And Jane may or may not have read her private files for confirmation, but that's beside the point.

He tries to inject a little bit of fun to her life; it does her good to loosen up a little. However, she claims to rarely have the time and that she always has more important things to do. And asking Teresa Lisbon to indulge in party tricks is about as constructive as asking a brick wall if it would like to do the tango.

Jane wonders if she even has an 'off' switch.

But he's always liked driven women. His wife, that beautiful, willowy blonde who had actually been insane enough to marry him, she had been a successful businesswoman. She hadn't even slowed down after the birth of their daughter and instead, had actually made her restaurant chain grow further.

Lisbon's determination to succeed, her drive to be the best, reminds him of her a lot.

Normally, that would be enough to scare him away. It's too close for comfort, far too close to home. But Lisbon wants to succeed to do good in the world, not purely to make money to support herself and her family. (Not that his wife was selfish - far from it, in fact. But that's another story.) Besides, she looks like the polar opposite of the first woman he fell head of heels in love with and that helps. He still finds Lisbon physically attractive - he's never had a 'type' as such.

And that helps too.

He's only worked for the CBI for nine months and he's already lost count of the number of times she's been first in the office and last to leave. It's little wonder the woman barely has a social life - she is married to her job.

It's a shame, really.

Because there's no need for her to be such a martyr. Her team would work to the ends of the earth if only she asked - even (or maybe, especially) Van Pelt, who joined them just two months ago. Lisbon knows they're dedicated to her and their jobs, but Jane can tell by just how little she delegates that not only is she a control freak, but she severely underestimates their abilities.

He wants to help her open up, to teach her to love. But he's hardly a suitable tutor for that and she deserves so much better than a broken man like himself. Especially when considering his quest to find and kill Red John. It means that however much he loves her, craves her affection, he knows that it's doomed from the start.

And she certainly doesn't deserve that.

Instead, he looks after her in the little ways that he feels capable of. A blueberry muffin for breakfast when she tries to skip it. A coffee to keep her awake at night if needs be.

And a shoulder to lean on, should she ever need it.

Though, he doubts she'll ever willingly accept that one.

000

He's never seen her quite so vulnerable before.

In fact, Lisbon tends to act so formidable that he had almost forgotten that she had a softer side at all.

It doesn't surprise Jane that it's a threat to her job that has drawn these emotions out of her. She may have finally begun to loosen up in his presence, but Lisbon still has a habit of hiding behind her badge and gun. Of measuring her self-worth by how many criminals they had arrested of late. He finds it all rather sad, really.

And now, because of a dead body, a missing memory and a failed polygraph, she could lose it all.

Oh, and her fingerprints on the magazine of the murder weapon too. He almost forgot about that.

He doesn't like seeing her so lost, having so much doubt in herself and those around her.

It doesn't suit her at all.

Mostly, he wants _his_ Lisbon back. The cool, calm, competent Lisbon who tries her hardest to rein him in. The woman who grown men feared, because despite her petite stature, she is still terribly intimidating. The woman who is a contradiction of hot and cold, soft and hard and oh so very interesting.

It's not that he's adverse to the idea of trying to protect her, of course. Looking after Lisbon, under any other circumstances, would seem like a wonderful concept. It would give him a chance to make it up to her after all the times she's pulled him out of sticky situations.

But this time, he cannot risk letting her down. Her job is _everything _to her.

Jane only doubted her innocence for half a second. Cops could become killers - it isn't entirely unheard of. But the very idea of by-the-book Teresa Lisbon killing just because simply did not fit. Even under extreme pressure, she has the strongest sense of morality he's ever come across.

Hell, she's still determined to bring in Red John alive.

When he hypnotizes her and she acknowledges her attraction to the new mail room guy, he cannot help but feel a twinge of jealousy. She's _his _Lisbon and he wishes she knew that, even if he cannot dare ask her for more than they already have. But that's not the main problem right now. She needs comforting. More than that; she needs confirmation that she didn't kill William McTeer, to the extent that she actually dares trust him invading her mind.

He knows just how much of a big deal that is to her.

When it fails to give her the answers she needs, he cannot help but feel a little guilty. Only a little, because it actually helps him slot the final piece of the puzzle into place and now he can help her clear her name.

He feels proud as he watches her feign the breakdown at CBI. And again when she uses her clever words to trap Roy Carmen. Though, neither of those moments compare to when he sees her back in her office, back where she belongs. They somehow got through this debacle unscathed and the relief is incomparable.

He came far too close to losing her and that absolutely terrified him.

000

They share just the one kiss.

It's a messy affair, one both of them try to forget.

They're both under the influence of alcohol, drowning their sorrows when it happens.

Lisbon is marking the one year anniversary of Bosco's death, tequila being her poison of choice. Jane knows that she still hasn't truly accepted that she will never see him again. Still hasn't even acknowledged just how important he was to her.

And he's more than happy to join her.

He hasn't told her yet, but Bosco was shot on the day he proposed to his wife, and eerily, died on the day she actually said yes. They're significant dates to him, but they aren't deemed important enough to be included in any of the reports on Red John. Of course, Jane made the connection virtually immediately and it unnerves him just how well the serial killer knows him.

When it comes to Red John, he refuses to believe in coincidence.

And he can only pray to a God he doesn't actually believe in that the murderer doesn't find out about his affections for the little brunette spitfire.

They shouldn't have acted on their emotions, least of all when under duress. It just put both their lives in jeopardy - if Red John finds out, it could have dire consequences on them both. And besides, neither of them had the right emotional mindset to deal with romance anyway.

For Jane, it is one thing being in love with a woman who is not his wife. He has long since accepted that his lust, his attraction to Teresa Lisbon is actually love. It's another thing entirely to actually act on it and though he wasn't exactly faithful to his wife while she was still alive, he feels like he's cheating on her again and finds that hard to live with.

And neither woman deserves that.

He knows that if he has any hope of moving on, he needs to put the ghosts of his past behind him.

And that's only _if_ he survives that final meeting with Red John and manages to remain a free man at all.

000

His nightmares come true when she nearly dies at the hands of Red John.

It should have been a normal day at the office.

They didn't have any cases, just a back log of paperwork and such to catch up on. She had a couple of meetings with bosses first thing to survive and that's about it.

But, at first, she's simply late (which is unusual in itself) and that blueberry muffin remains untouched on her desk. Then, as the minutes slip by, it changes from late to worrying and eventually, suspicious.

If she were ill enough to justify to herself taking a day off, she would have called in as early as feasibly possible.

Suspicious changes to life-threatening when Jane receives a text message at three minutes past ten.

It's from Lisbon's phone and includes a photograph.

A photograph of her limp body and a smiley face painted above her head - presumably in her blood.

They're told that she's still alive and that her wounds aren't meant to be life threatening. That all changes if they don't find her within the next two hours and then her chances of survival quickly diminish.

Jane doesn't know what he will do if he loses another woman he loves to Red John. The breakdown last time was bad enough, but a repeat performance…

Somehow, they manage to find her on time.

He spends every waking minute by her bedside. Jane knows that the hospital staff gossip. The small band of gold adorning his finger is enough for that, but frankly, he doesn't care,

He's not leaving her side until he can guarantee that she isn't about to die on him.

After all, he cannot help but think it's his fault that she's in such a situation at all. That she nearly slowly, painfully bled to death to teach them both a morbid sort of lesson.

When she's nearly fully recovered, Lisbon tells him that she believes it's Red John's way to try and scare her off the case.

It hasn't worked though. If anything, it seems to have made her all the more determined. That she absolutely cannot let the bastard win and now she has physical reminders as to why. The scars that decorate her skin are symbols of her survival, of her sheer luck.

The fact that she's lucky to be alive at all should have been enough for Jane to take the plunge and finally start the relationship he craved for her. After all, he came so very close to losing her and he should have felt the need to make up for lost time.

It's not though.

If anything, it terrifies him even further. He'd rather keep her at arm's length and alive than hold her close and risk losing her like that again.

000

For a long while, he indulged in the fantasy of finally being able to justify dating Teresa Lisbon.

He always dreams about it happening when it was over. When Red John is no longer haunting his gloomy existence.

And now, now it is over. No more Red John. No more nightmares of finding Lisbon's body in a repeat position as before…

She doesn't get what she wanted either, though. She doesn't get to arrest him.

But she did get to stop him - and she deserves that, at the very least. If only for the physical and emotional trauma he put her through just a few months back. She is the Red John victim that lived. Nobody was meant to do that.

And that is something she'll have to carry with her for the rest of her life.

Somehow, Jane cannot help but resent her just a little. He'd wanted to avenge his wife. He'd also wanted Red John to suffer for torturing Lisbon herself. And then there were the other victims…

_He_ had wanted to be her knight in shining armor for a change.

She helps him to his feet and his body feels numb. There are paramedics waiting outside, she says. He really ought to get himself checked out, she continues and Jane barely hears her. But it's so typical of her, worrying about their health and safety despite everything that is happening around them.

But all he can think of is the imbalance in their relationship.

He's saved her all of three times. Hardy. The Carmen and McTeer debacle. From bleeding to death at the blade of Red John.

_She _has saved him countless times more. Most recently, today, from Red John. Again.

Where Lisbon's survival hadn't been a problem for the serial killer, shaking her up had been enough, Jane knows that he wasn't meant to survive today. Red John had intended that both of them were meant to die before the stroke of midnight, before Lisbon rode in and saved the day.

Trust her to manage to ruin all of his plans.

But Red John still managed one thing in his death: killing any hope of a relatively balanced relationship between himself and Lisbon. Today had put the final nail in _that _coffin.

He owes her far more than any human should. Far too much for them to truly ever work.

Jane can only hope that now it is over, she will still be willing to have him in her life, even if only as a friend. He cannot risk giving her anymore - he knows all about power play and that's why he'll have to refuse to go any further. Just dream of what could have been, what _should_ have been.

But he doesn't even want to imagine a life without her presence at all.

end


	41. Excuse me

**A/N:** Hateful formatting is hateful.

Okay, so a brief break from SSS uploads for now. Also, a chance to give boutondor (and anyone else who has already read all of my SSS fics) something new to read. And it's a fic I've owed benetrice for a long, long while and it's unfair to keep them waiting any longer.

Thank you to: lisbon69, AlternativeRocker, springdreaming, Jisbon4ever, Frogster, IGottaFindYou, Famous4it, Koezh, anthropologist and forthecoast for reviewing _Haunted_. Especially so to Jisbon4ever who signed in anonymously.

And yes, this is me, trying to write fluff in a similarish style to _Haunted_. I apologise in advance, because really, me and fluff do not mix.

x tromana

* * *

**Title: **A Smile Solves Everything  
**Author: **tromana  
**Rating: **T  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon  
**Summary: …**or maybe not quite, because sometimes it is just a mask.  
**Disclaimer: **Not mine.  
**Notes: **50 Phrases: Excuse me. Written for benetrice on LiveJournal who asked for some fluff. Yes, really. That's why it took so long to write. Also for mentalistprompt, the prompt being 005: tea

**A Smile Solves Everything**

The first day on a new job was at least a little bit daunting for most people.

Well, unless your name was Patrick Jane, that was. He shook Virgil Minelli's hand with a firm grip, listened closely as he explained that the team he was to be assigned to had gone out on an early morning bust but should be back soon. The man was clearly very trusting - anyone had to be to be able to hire him, after all - but he didn't mind that. If anything, that was more of a relief. If he didn't trust him, then he'd have problems.

Not least working out how to seek revenge for what Red John did to his family.

Still, he knew it wouldn't all be working the Red John case. Heck, the rest of it might even be fun. That partially depended on what the team he was working with was like, especially his new boss, Teresa Lisbon. Funny that he was to be working underneath a woman. He'd assumed that Minelli wouldn't trust him unless he was under the control of a man with an iron grip. He didn't exactly have the most trustworthy of records.

"Excuse me?"

Patrick Jane looked up at the person who spoke with a smile.

Well, that was a different way to meet your new boss.

He hadn't been quite sure when he'd wandered into… he looked up briefly at the open door… Teresa Lisbon's office, but somehow he'd just found himself in there. Not that anyone would believe that. Besides, it was quite an interesting workspace to be in. He's already worked out a lot about her already. Teresa had clearly made quite an effort to personalize the prefabricated room.

"Hi, you must be Teresa," he said, still grinning. "I'm…"

"Patrick Jane. I was told you'd be starting today," she interrupted and he looked a little surprised by her interjection. "It's good to meet you. Though, next time you want my attention and I'm not in my office, I'd appreciate it if you waited just outside instead of walking in and making yourself at home."

* * *

"Trust me Lisbon, it's foolproof."

"Oh really?"

A ghost of a smile appeared on her lips and she quickly worked to suppress it. Jane hadn't been working with them for long and really, each and every time he suggested something, it seemed to get more outlandish. Lisbon was beginning to wonder why on earth Minelli had hired a genius and a lunatic, though not necessarily in that order. He did close cases, even though it was usually with very unorthodox methods, concepts which went against her very beliefs. A niggling thought at the back of her mind suggested he wasn't really worth the hassle, but she promptly ignored it. She was getting very good at that now.

"Fine," she replied and Jane looked triumphant. "Though, if it doesn't work, this one's on you."

Six hours later and Lisbon found herself sitting in ER. Jane was right next to her and he was prodding his nose occasionally and wincing every time he did so. They'd made the arrest, at the expense of a bloody nose on Jane's part. It was his own fault though. If he hadn't used a kid to convince the murderer to confess. A young boy whose mother had just died at the hands of his Uncle. She didn't blame the man for lashing out, using his fists to show his dislike of Jane's supposedly foolproof plan.

Really, it could have been worse.

She said as much with a light smile and Jane simply glowered in response.

* * *

She smiled, albeit briefly, as she glanced at her cell phone before slipping it back into her pocket. Quickly, she rearranged her features into a far more demure expression, more suited to looking at the dead body of Gregory Richards.

Jane noticed though. Nothing ever got past him.

* * *

"You have a boyfriend?"

"Boyfriend sounds so juvenile, Jane."

"Fine. Partner then."

"Yes, I do."

He smiled in response and Lisbon found herself feeling as though she had just been thrown completely off guard. Of all the reaction for him to throw in her direction, a smile had been pretty low down the list.

"Good. That's good. You need more of a social life."

"Right…"

"I'm happy for you."

Jane disappeared almost immediately, almost running out of her office. Again, an unexpected response. First thing in the morning, he would set himself down in her office and attempt to distract her from her work as long as feasibly possible. It was like it was number one of the list of Patrick Jane's things to do for the day. Lisbon had grown used to the routine, even set aside time for it.

For him to just walk out is so damn out of character for him. Especially as she hadn't had to either give him a direct order or throw some kind of projectile to him.

As troubling as Jane's personality switch was, she couldn't spend too long contemplating it. There were far too many cases open for her liking and besides, she and Cho were due to go talk to a suspect within half an hour. The unexpected free time would be far more constructively used preparing for that.

Even if she couldn't help but think there was even more to Jane's responses than usual.

* * *

Jane's initial reaction to his discovery that she was actually dating somebody still bothered Lisbon and she wished she had time to address it properly.

However, what with work, her family and actually having somebody to meet around her already busy schedule, it didn't leave much time for contemplation.

Besides, it was nice, doing something for herself for a change. She wasn't going to sacrifice that for the world.

Or even Patrick Jane.

* * *

Jane told himself he wasn't jealous, but there was a difference between meaningless words and what he actually felt.

As a result, he was rather short with Lisbon and only discussed work related issues with her.

He also told himself she hadn't noticed, that she was too busy to do so. Deep down, he also knew that was a lie.

* * *

"Have I done something to upset you?" she snapped, kicking the couch roughly. "Because it sure as hell feels like it."

Lisbon stood with her arms folded tightly, glaring down at him angrily. Clearly, she intended to mean business. However, unlike Rigsby who would find such a stance from his boss rather intimidating, Jane simply found it amusing. He quirked his lips upwards slightly, pleased that she had decided he was actually worth the effort.

They hadn't really been getting along all that well. Not since the boyfriend incident. Not since his attitude around her had changed for the worse because of stupid emotions he couldn't control.

Jane knew she was still with him, whoever this mystery man was. He hadn't tried to find out either; if he'd even dared to, she would have accused him of interfering and things would have gotten messy. Besides, it was obvious she was having problems with him without any input of his own.

Contrary to popular belief, Jane hadn't been wishing this would happen. He much preferred a happier Lisbon to a sad one. Even if it was somebody else that made her react that way. Even though it felt like a stab in the gut each and every time the subject was almost mentioned.

Besides, it was better one of them feeling content than neither.

Not that that was going to last for much longer, clearly.

* * *

She was quietly shredding tissues, not something she did without cause.

Jane brought in a box of tissues, a mug of hot tea and a slice of cake.

With a wry smile, she accepted them. They didn't need to vocalize what had just happened. Just being together was enough.

* * *

"You okay?"

"Never better."

Jane didn't believe her and continued to bring in the tea and cake whenever it seemed appropriate.

* * *

Tea and cake turned into a lunch once. They were on an out of town case and the others had disappeared to do the tasks assigned to them. Lisbon was growing frustrated with the lack of leads and beginning to take it out on inanimate objects.

Out of fear of her computer not surviving the rest of the day, Jane whisked her out, to a small café he'd spotted in the town. She complained, loudly, but he was immune to her responses.

Over sandwiches and soda, they discussed the case, naturally. They generally tried to avoid talking about themselves as those conversations always seemed so depressing. Besides, they were still technically on work hours as well and Lisbon would feel guilty if she wasn't doing anything to try and solve the case, even while eating.

It was also while eating that Lisbon realized that one of the girl's earrings had been missing. That they had seen the other half of the pair on the counter in her cousin's kitchen.

Within three hours the case was closed and said cousin had confessed all.

From that point onwards, lunch breaks became a more frequent part of their day to day life.

* * *

She seemed lonely, ever since her mystery boyfriend disappeared.

Jane didn't like that.

He tried to treat her, to make her feel special.

It was good to see her smile, even if it was over something as mundane as theatre tickets or shouting herself hoarse at a baseball match. And it meant they both enjoyed themselves, both had something to focus on other than work or the inner demons that they were both fighting but rarely, if ever, talked out.

He would have liked to give her more, but he wasn't ready, not yet.

Besides, she didn't seem to be either.

* * *

"You sure that's Red John?"

"We're sure."

Jane looked down at the body of his nemesis, fallen on top of his final victim and then glanced around the scene of the crime.

It didn't take a genius to work out what had happened.

Wife was home alone. Husband out of town, at a business seminar.

Red John came to kill her. Husband came home early and shot Red John to death shortly after he'd managed to murder the woman. He fled, driving himself into a river, unable to cope with the loss of his wife.

Jane knew he shouldn't be happy, that Red John's demise had also resulted in the death of two innocent people, but he couldn't help it.

He smiled.

Lisbon did too.

It was contagious, after all.

* * *

"You're leaving us? Now that Red John's dead?"

"Only if I can't date you and be on your team at the same time."

"What?"

"You heard."

Lisbon placed the folder down, laced her fingers together and rested her chin on her hands. Though they'd always gotten along well and she'd always thought that maybe someday something could happen, she'd always managed to persuade herself that she was daydreaming, hoping for the impossible. Even now, Jane still felt emotionally unavailable, like he was too in love with a ghost for her to ever have a chance.

She glanced at his left hand.

The ring was conspicuously absent.

Then, she smiled.

"You know what? I think there's some kind of loophole meaning it would be absolutely fine," she stated and Jane grinned. "You are _only_ a civilian."

She stood, walked around her desk and Jane remained frozen to the spot. It seemed like the tables had turned. He'd walked in, taking her completely off guard with his proposition. Now, she was the one, cupping his cheek, pressing her lips against his own, lacing another arm tightly around his waist. Of course, he responded with fervor, enjoying every single second of it, waiting for the moment when she would spring away, stating how inappropriate such actions were in the workplace.

That moment never came and instead, he placed a gentle kiss on the tip of her nose shortly after they broke for air.

They both smiled. Honest to goodness real smiles, with no hidden agendas or woes hiding beneath the surface.

Some things were worth waiting for.

end


	42. Well done

**A/N: **Super speedy update at the library, yay. I won't ramble much, for obvious reasons then.

Thank you to: lisbon69, Caritas1979, Jisbon4ever, Indie Sol, yaba, phoenixmagic1, anthropologist, Frogster, forthcoast, Viktorija, hardly loquacious, boutondor, IGottaFindYou and livingandthriving for reviewing. Also to Chibi and Yana for betaing. It's much appreciated. The poking and squishing less so, Chibi. Otherwise I could withhold your bunny access. :p

x tromana

* * *

******Title:** Evolution**  
****Author:** tromana  
******Rating: **T  
******Characters:** Jane/Lisbon**  
****Summary: **Everything is the same, but a little bit different. Either the beginning of something new or the end.**  
****Disclaimer: **Not mine  
******Notes:** Beta'd by Yana and Chiisana Minako.****

**Evolution**

You stop as you walk past her office door.

Of course you had been intending to walk straight on by, as if nothing happened between you two last night. Like everything is the same as it always is, was. That it's just another day in the CBI. Rigsby and Cho are out making a bust, Van Pelt's doing something on the computer that frankly goes straight over your head. And she… she…

Well. She's nowhere to be seen.

You know she's here, in the building, somewhere. Her car is outside in the parking lot and a cup of coffee is slowly stagnating on her desk; it must have been abandoned a good two or three hours ago. Obviously, she had to rush off somewhere, without even having the time to finish her morning drink. That's unsurprising; she is, after all, the senior agent of the Serious Crimes Unit. It's a responsible position and a lot is expected of her. It's also a mantle she wears well; lesser people would easily buckle under the strain.

But not her.

Not Teresa Lisbon.

Except…

Last night.

Last night, she wasn't herself. There was something different about her. Sadder and happier in equal measures, if that's at all possible and certainly a lot more forthcoming too.

You remember her hands and how they slid effortlessly down your back as your fingers ran through her glossy brown locks. The seductive grin that played on her lips was almost foreign in a way and the urgency of her movements as she…

Well… There are some thoughts that should be saved for later, anyway. It is rather an inappropriate thing to be thinking about in the workplace, especially as it involves your boss, of all people. Not that you actually acknowledge her authority half of the time as it is. Most instructions are taken as advice rather than a direct order, but there are still some limits even you feel the need to respect.

Lisbon (or should you be calling her Teresa now? Just where do you stand with the infuriating woman?) had surprised you last night. It's hard to know where all that burst of emotion came from. Why did it all happen just then, last night. Just after she'd made the arrest in the McCallister case?

You'd like to think of it as the natural progression of your relationship, something that slowly evolved to last night's pinnacle, but how can you be sure?

Of course, there's always been that underlying attraction between you two; it would be foolish to deny it. It's something you've been happy enough to shove to one side for a long while, if only because you couldn't cope with the idea of addressing romantic feelings for another woman again. Yes, technically, it's been a long while since you lost your wife and child and _technically_, you should have been able to heal by now. However, their murderer is still on the loose and you cannot even consider coming to terms with it until you've dealt with him.

Can you?

If you go by how you felt last night, apparently you can.

You slump in her chair and instinctively pick up the folder in front of you. As with all CBI folders, it's completely nondescript until you open it and then, then it's filled with pictures and details of gory murders. Images unpleasant enough to make the weak stomached throw up and give little kiddies nightmares.

This one pertains to the McCallister case, the one you've just closed.

Your eyes scan over the details (why didn't you read this sooner? Oh yes, because you can usually work out all of the important case facts without having to waste time actually reading it.) It's pretty dry material: generic information about the victim, photographs of the crime scene, lists of evidence taken and the like. However, this time one thing leaps out almost immediately. McCallister was an old work colleague's of Lisbon's.

You'd known that Kai McCallister was a cop, for obvious reasons. They had to solve the case to send out 'a message', just like the Flower case, which had gotten Lisbon suspended. You assumed that her fervor to solve the case was similar to that. Knowing McCallister in passing and knowing that she had to catch the killer to prove that this was one of those things that you just didn't get away with.

But just how close had Lisbon been to McCallister?

A rush of jealousy courses through your veins, catching you somewhat off guard. You don't even notice the polystyrene cup crashing to the floor, spilling its neglected contents onto the wooden floor and creating what Lisbon would, no doubt, see as a safety hazard. At least it isn't carpeted, so there's no risk of staining.

Still, she won't be pleased, regardless of the fact there's no actual harm done, apart from to the innocent coffee, which is easily replaceable.

Like she isn't that impressed with you at the moment.

Though, how can you tell?

She seems to be avoiding you now, anyway.

Or so you originally thought.

Actually, she's standing in the door way of her office, staring down at you with narrowed eyes and an impatient expression, probably searching desperately for some kind of reasoning behind your invasion of her privacy. As if you usually need a reason to do just that. That's something that comes like second nature to you. Though, of course, the urge to snoop is exacerbated by what happened last night.

Something that you'd quite like to happen again. The idea of her just being a one night stand isn't something that's at all appealing. Especially as you could theoretically accuse her of using you if nothing else transpires.

"What happened between you and McCallister?"

The words slip out and sound more like an angry demand than you actually intended. It was meant to be a polite inquiry, just trying to find out more about your colleague (your potential lover).

"Nothing."

"If I believed that, I'd believe anything."

She sits on the wrong side of her desk for a change, but the seating arrangements don't appear to bother her all that much. That's good. You didn't mean to make her feel uncomfortable, though she's probably assuming otherwise right at this very moment.

"He was a good man who didn't deserve to die the way that he did."

"And?"

"And I have nothing else to add."

"Lisbon…"

"I think you should leave now," she hisses and you nod, obeying instructions for a change.

Well done.

You may just have ruined everything.

If this man had meant anything more to her than what she had insisted, of course she wouldn't want to talk about it. Since when has she been anything but secretive and cagey with you? You know that she's voraciously private, doesn't dare let herself get hurt in any way, shape or form.

But you can't help but push, can you?

You'd think you'd learned to have stopped doing that after… after…

Well, just after.

Morose, you settle on the couch. The brown leather is warm and forgiving. Usually, it takes you mere seconds to get comfortable. Today, however, is another matter altogether, probably because you're so frustrated.

That's what you get for being so fixated on last night. So fixated on her. Everyone says that Lisbon needs to learn to relax, but really, you're just as bad as she is.

You just don't like to admit it.

Though, of course, you can't have believed anything would come of it really, could you? Lisbon was just stressed, looking for a temporary reprieve. You need to accept that. Besides, you don't _really_ deserve happiness, do you?

After the sun there will be the rain, after the cloud, there will be the moon. Nothing stays the same and you seem to attract the darker things in life these days.

Somewhere along the line, you slip into something resembling sleep. Dreams come and go: your wife putting cookie mixture on your nose; swinging your daughter around in circles, her shouting 'higher, Daddy, higher!'; Lisbon alternating between smiling and scowling. And blood. _So much blood_.

All interspersed by movements of the team and moments of consciousness.

It makes you a little unsure as to what is real and what remains firmly in the dreamscape.

It's already dark when you open your eyes for good. Everybody else has long since left and you can't help but wonder why nobody disturbed you, why nobody asked for your opinion on a case or whatnot.

Then again, you did need the sleep. You spent the majority of last night awake, albeit with company for a change. Even without that, it's been a while since you last slept that well.… it's just a shame that you had to waste the daylight hours instead of the night.

Pushing yourself to a sitting position, you only just realize you do actually have company. The glow of Lisbon's lamp light invades the bullpen. Like a lone candle, giving hope where there is none.

Well, sort of anyway.

Judging by the result of what happened in your last two encounters, it could go either way. You know what you'd prefer, of course, partially because you have to carry on working with each other. Especially as you still want to apprehend (what happened to kill?) Red John and you absolutely cannot do that without her.

Lisbon looks up when you approach. It seems she'd expected this, almost been waiting for it even.

"Yes, I tried dating him," she answers before you even have a chance to ask a question.

You open your mouth to reply, but she cuts you off.

"It didn't work. The curse of the long distance relationship."

"Oh."

She smiles briefly.

"I'll give you Red John."

"What?"

It's clear she doesn't believe you, not yet. Well, that's hardly surprising. You've offered so many empty promises, worthless lies that it's amazing that she even believes half of the things that you say these days.

"I mean it."

"We'll see."

"What about us?"

"It isn't against the rules. I checked. Twice."

That isn't the response you expected but suddenly, everything feels so much better.

Now you have a chance to prove to her that you don't lie about things like this.

end


	43. Please stop crying

**A/N:** I wasn't going to enter this month's challenge, but this idea was bothering me. Instead of stubbornly ignoring it, I gave up and decided to write it instead,

Thank you to: springdreaming, Jisbon4ever and Amber for reviewing _Evolution_, it's much appreciated. Especially so to Amber who logged in anonymously.

x tromana

* * *

**Title: **If Life Gives You Lemons  
**Author: **tromana  
**Rating: **T  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon  
**Summary: **Making do is something she's always been used to doing.  
**Disclaimer: **Not mine  
**Notes: **Written for the Jello Forever July 2010 Challenge. Prompt: Lemonade

**If Life Gives You Lemons**

"Oh stop crying, please stop crying."

Teresa glanced at the door warily as her toddler brother continued wailing. If he got much louder, he could awaken the beast and if that happened… Well, things just wouldn't be pretty. It had been bad enough just after their Mom had died, all of eleven months ago, but now, things were different.

He started drinking. Regularly.

She'd always known that her Dad didn't mix well with alcohol. There had been occasions in the past, when she was younger, when he'd had just a little too much and caused her mother some bruises that she tried to explain away. Though she wanted to, Teresa hadn't believed her - the stories never quite added up.

Now she was just grateful for the forewarning.

Fretting, she carried on splitting her attention between the door and young Joshua. The young boy was clenching and unclenching his fist in frustration, still caught up in the middle of his temper tantrum. Her Mom had always been able to manage to get him to go to sleep, it didn't matter how bouncy he was. She'd just had the magic touch. However, she wasn't here now and there was nothing any of them could do about it. It was down to her to make sure that Joshua got his rest, had everything he needed and that her father didn't lay a finger on the young boy. It was just, sometimes, he made it so difficult for her.

"I'll buy you some candy tomorrow if you just shut up."

Joshua clamped his mouth shut and looked up at her with watery eyes. Teresa slid down the wall, thoroughly relieved that he had actually listened to her. It wasn't the best of solutions, but it would do.

For now.

* * *

Accepting her father's death came all too easily.

At least he wasn't there to lay a finger on any of them anymore. It didn't matter that they were orphaned and none of them were legally adults.

They were safe.

* * *

She wasn't even sure what made her ask for the form.

Teresa had never really considered the idea of being a police officer before. Maybe it was because it was a good, solid career and that the civilized world was always going to need police officers in one form or another? The fact they were omnipresent in society and she had willingly accepted their aid on occasion helped too. She was grateful for that because without them, Richard would be dead. But that didn't mean she desperately wanted to be one and there was no overwhelming urge to do good or to lock criminals up in jail. However, she knew she would be good at it; she'd been managing dangerous situations virtually single-handedly for too long now. Her childhood, or lack thereof, had almost been the perfect training ground without needing to attend the Academy.

But if she could truly be honest with herself, what she'd always wanted to do was work with animals of some variety. Be a vet or zoologist or something like that. If she had been allowed, Teresa would have had her own personal petting zoo, but her Mom had been allergic to pet dander and her Dad… well. She still didn't like thinking about him and the scars he'd caused - both physical and emotional.

She couldn't think about indulgences right now though. Teresa needed a reliable career, one that wasn't likely to be pulled out from under her feet without a moment's notice or require too many years of expensive training. Anyway, it wasn't as if she couldn't have pets when her brothers were all financially independent and she had the money for them. Besides, it was theoretically possible for her to specialize in dog handling. Maybe. If she was lucky.

She was skeptical about that. If there was such a thing as that damn 'lucky break', she sure as hell wasn't going to get it. Teresa had never had that kind of blessing - anything she wanted, she had to earn.

She started filling in the form anyway.

* * *

It wasn't long before she realized that she actually enjoyed police work. There was something more gratifying about bringing people to justice than she realized. It felt like somebody was constantly giving her a puzzle to solve and she knew it would be impossible to grow bored with that, at least.

The snide remarks from the other (male) students weren't pleasant, but she knew she'd have to deal with them if she was serious about this.

Which she was. Now.

* * *

Upon graduation, she joined the San Francisco Police Department and was placed under the supervision of Samuel Bosco Junior.

The man was a respectable member of society, a competent cop, wonderful tutor and about as good as they came. He didn't hold anything against her because she was just a mere woman and instead pushed her as hard as any of his men. It didn't matter that she was meant to be the member of the fairer sex, he saw her for what she was: a diamond from the rough, eager and ready to be polished up.

Finally accepting and willing to be the police officer she could and would be.

Teresa loved that. Finally, somebody was recognizing her as another human being and treating her as such. For so long, people seemed to think she was there to use and abuse and forgot that she actually had feelings. Sam, though abrasive, often had a kind word to say and that always lifted her spirits when she was feeling down.

He was also engaged to be married. To his childhood sweetheart, no less.

She'd told herself, when she was younger, she would never do anything as foolish as falling for a co-worker. It was always messy and there were never any happy endings. If the company didn't force you apart, power play within the office would.

Teresa knew she was being ridiculous allowing herself to harbor any feelings for Sam whatsoever. She knew she should be grateful for what they had, because it was better than nothing.

Besides, relationships between tutors and students were even worse than that of mere colleagues.

* * *

She couldn't believe her luck when the telephone call came from Sacramento.

The CBI was the premier crime fighting organization and on more than one occasion, they'd taken cases from Sam and his team. He always grumbled under his breath about the unfairness of it all, about how they made him look incompetent but Teresa always marveled at how they worked. She'd always told herself that if she ever had the chance to work for the CBI, she would grab it with both hands, even if it was as a janitor, receptionist or anther menial position.

Only problem was, they were expecting her to go backwards with her career. Wanted her to take the rookie position in Petty Crimes. Apparently, she wasn't even worthy for a role in a team dealing with the more complex cases, like the Major Crimes Unit. She'd also been told she would have to completely retrain, to learn how to do things their way rather than the way every other law enforcement company in the country worked.

When she had said that she would work for them in any capacity, she knew, deep down, she hadn't meant it literally.

But still, she informed Sam that she was leaving and tried to ignore the hurt expression in his eyes as he realized it was for the CBI. As she did so, she told herself that it was a foot in the door, that it was better to get her face known in the organization rather than waiting for them to offer her the perfect job on a silver platter. That kind of thing never happened, not to her, anyway.

Once the bosses realized how competent she was, she'd receive promotion. And she would work damned hard for it, at that.

* * *

"Boss, you cannot be serious."

Minelli's face remained severe and Lisbon almost shrank back. She'd heard of this Patrick Jane - he'd tried to fleece Josh out of his life savings once. She never approved of the fact that he had hired the charlatan in the first place. Lisbon had told herself that it didn't matter, that the CBI was a large company and they would rarely come across one another. Besides, she worked out of town on cases so often now that she was finally where she wanted to be and that would make avoiding him all the easier.

It had worked, for a while.

She knew Jane had a personal interest in the Red John case, the one she had accepted just three months ago. However, she'd always assumed Minelli would be wise enough to keep the consultant as far away from it as feasibly possible.

Lisbon had watched as Jane was shunted from unit to unit, always feeling particularly sorry for the senior agent who had to wrestle with him at that moment in time. She never really thought that one day, it would be her having to deal with him.

"I'm running out of places to put him, Lisbon. He'll listen to you."

"What makes you think that?"

"You have Red John."

With a shake of the head, she swallowed down a bitter laugh. Letting Jane loose on Red John was crazy. Completely insane. It certainly wouldn't be enough of a reason to convince a madman like him to work on their terms. She didn't think it was even feasibly possible for him to know what rules actually were.

"Jane's…" she started and instead, pinched the bridge of her nose.

She wanted to say that taking on Jane would be career suicide. While each unit he had worked with had experienced a spike in the number of cases they closed, the number of complaints had also grown exponentially. It was a general consensus that he wasn't really worth the hassle, hence the reason he never stayed in one place for longer than six months at most.

"He closes cases. Surely that's enough?"

"We've closed plenty of cases without him."

"Look. Teresa," Minelli started and she flinched at the use of her first name. "You're right, but I really think you'll have more success controlling him than anybody else."

"Why? Because of Red John?"

"Because you're a woman and he'll feel the need to respect you."

"That's bullshit and you know it."

Minelli's eyes narrowed at the use of a profanity, but he didn't comment on it. He knew how fiery Lisbon was. That was why he hired her, made her work harder than she should have to become the senior agent of the Serious Crimes unit. Besides, it had been low, dragging her gender into the mix, but he had a feeling that it would make all the difference. The senior agents Jane had worked with thus far - all good men - had simply had Jane pull outlandish stunts, not caring about the repercussions as they could look after themselves. Despite the fact Lisbon was as competent, if not more so, than these men, he was banking on Jane's natural desire to play the white knight with Lisbon. Of course he'd still do weird things to close cases, but he would hopefully scale it down a little.

"If it doesn't work out, I promise I will remove him from your team immediately. Give it a three month trial, at least," Minelli eventually said, hoping that she would finally agree.

She nodded and her shoulders sagged. It was a compromise and Lisbon knew she wasn't going to get any better than that.

* * *

"You don't have to do that."

"I do. Nobody else will."

"But…"

"My only resources are my time and these case files," she stated, stubbornly avoiding looking at him. "I have to make use of what little I have."

She selected a file and scanned through a case report. Almost as quickly as she picked it up, she slammed it back down again. Nothing. Why was the Duchovy case causing her so much hassle? It was meant to be open and shut, as simple as that. Lisbon cursed under her breath; this was the fault of politics. Again.

"If life gives you lemons, make lemonade," she added, under her breath.

"And what if you don't want lemonade? What if you want coke?" Jane piped up and Lisbon scowled. She'd hoped that he would leave without another word.

"You have to make do."

"You know, you don't have to just 'make do' all the while."

Lisbon snorted derisively and went to carry on working, but Jane caught her elbow and held it firmly. It was the only way he was able to stop her from opening yet another box of files pertaining to their current case. Lisbon glared at him, frustrated at the fact that he was severely slowing her progress. Before he'd found her deep in the CBI archives, she'd been managing to get through a box or so every fifteen minutes.

"No, really. There's a team of individuals upstairs who'd be more than happy to help if only you ask."

"They're barely my team anymore," she snarled and he took a step back. "All you have to do is say 'jump' and they'll reply with 'how high?'"

"Lisbon, I'm…"

"That's just the way it is, Jane. Now please, leave me alone, so I can get some work done in peace."

* * *

It was frustrating seeing the team following Jane's every whim. She wasn't a competent senior agent anymore - she was a joke.

She didn't even have Minelli anymore. He couldn't back her up, couldn't get rid of Jane the way he promised to. Like so many people, he'd just walked out of her life because it was the easier thing to do.

No wonder Hightower was threatening Jane through her - it was easy and whatever the consequences, would be a win for the new boss. It didn't surprise Lisbon that the new director wanted her out. It did, however, surprise her just how easily she'd accepted it.

There was nothing she could do now except wait.

* * *

"I thought you were going to stop me?"

"I tried," she hissed.

And tried she had, but typically, she'd been five minutes too late. Lisbon knew that she would be walking into a bloodbath, but she honestly hadn't expected Jane to be the one alive.

Lisbon genuinely hoped Jane was happy now that he'd killed Red John. She also hoped that he realized just how completely idiotic he'd been in doing so; the serial killer's death didn't bring back his family.

Still, she read out his rights and Jane willingly proffered his wrists to be handcuffed. He smiled gently as she lead him towards the SUV, to take him back to the CBI headquarters for the routine questioning and to be charged.

This was something she should have acknowledged was going to happen a long time ago. It didn't make it any less of a bitter pill to swallow.

* * *

She watched as the officer lead him out of the dock and down towards the cells. Patrick Jane had just been convicted of voluntary manslaughter.

Madeleine Hightower hadn't survived the scandal. Neither had she.

Lisbon had decided to go back east, to work nearer her brothers. Though she'd never have the reputation to work in an agency like the CBI again, there were plenty of places in desperate need of a competent Sheriff. And more importantly, there were no Patrick Janes waiting to pull the rug out from under her feet.

They'd be happy to compromise, to have her and the ghost of Red John hanging over their shoulders.

She would just have to be too. After all, she was getting very good at accepting second best.

end


	44. Look over there

**A/N:** This may get interesting. Somebody, not naming any names *coughs*Chibi*coughs*, is using my arm as an arm rest. And I want to go write more of Army in a minute. Oh well. At least the kitten isn't attacking us at the moment.

Thank you to: boutondor, yaba, Jisbon4ever and anthropologist for reviewing If Life Gives You Lemons. It's much appreciated, thank you!

Okay, so my stomach is now the arm rest. Nice.

x tromana

* * *

**Title: **Waiting For Nothing  
**Author: **tromana  
**Rating: **T  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon  
**Summary: **All she wanted was one word.  
**Disclaimer: **Not mine  
**Notes: **50 Phrases: look over there. Written for boutondor in the Jello Forever Summer Secret Santa. Beta'd by Miss Peg.

**Waiting For Nothing**

_I'd take another chance, take a fall  
Take a shot for you  
And I need you like a heart needs a beat  
But it's nothing new  
I loved you with a fire red-  
Now it's turning blue, and you say...  
"Sorry" like the angel heaven let me think was you  
But I'm afraid...  
It's too late to apologize, it's too late  
I said it's too late to apologize, it's too late_

Apologize, _One Republic_

The door clanged open. After she shuffled through, at the nod of the guard, it promptly clanged shut again behind her and rather embarrassingly, she jumped slightly at the noise. Wordlessly, Lisbon followed the man through to a small room with tables dotted around. The plastic chairs, as expected, were bolted to the floor but still, she settled in the seat she was offered. She hated being anywhere near a prison at the best of times; they made her feel small and vulnerable, especially without her gun. It didn't help that several of the inmates housed in this specific one were only there because of her either. Her eyes roamed the edge of the room, spotting several uniformed officials. They didn't quite quell her fears though; people could cause a lot of damage in a split second, before everyone else even had time to react - she understood that all too well.

Agitatedly, she shifted her weight uncomfortably, trying to remember why exactly it was she had organized this visit. Well, why other than sheer intrigue. It felt slightly wrong coming to the prison just to stare at him, like he was some kind of exhibit in a zoo, but honestly, now she was actually here. Lisbon was certain there were other reasons, but now she was on the verge of meeting him again, she honestly couldn't remember what they were. They had all evaporated from her mind like puddles of water on a hot day.

Lisbon shook her head and then, she spotted Jane. She had once, albeit briefly, thought that anything could suit him. He'd even managed to just about pull off the shade of blue of the jumpsuit he'd worn briefly at the county jail. That shade of orange, however… Then again, maybe it wasn't just the scratchy jumpsuit he was wearing. Maybe it was the dour expression, the look as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. He really didn't suit being trapped constantly, it dampened his spirits. Almost immediately, she stopped herself from thinking down that track. Jane didn't deserve her feeling sorry for him; it was his fault he was here. Time and time again, she'd warned him and every time, it fell on deaf ears. Jane couldn't say that she didn't warn him that if he even laid a finger on Red John, she would be forced to arrest him.

Well, he went further than simply harming him. He'd just gone and killed the bastard, hadn't he?Of course the courts were lenient on him, far more so than she expected. Red John's murder couldn't have been more premeditated even if Jane tried. The past nine or so years of his life had been building up to him slaughtering the serial killer like Red John had so many other victims. But because of Jane's family, because of the horror and grief it had clearly caused him and the fact it was highly unlikely he would kill anybody else, they went easy.

A forceful hand on the shoulder made him sit down opposite her and Lisbon winced sympathetically. Once again, Lisbon found herself getting angry with her ridiculous emotions. Though she continually reminded herself that Jane didn't deserve her care or consideration, it wasn't exactly something she could switch off. She'd spent so many years looking after him, keeping an eye out and clearing up after his messes that it all came as second nature to her. Maybe one day, she would be able to undo all of those autonomous reactions, but for now she would just have to endure them.

That was if she would want to undo them at all. That all depended on the outcome of this little meeting.

"Hello, Teresa."

"Jane."

He nodded slightly, barely a quirk of the head in response to her greeting, before breaking out into a wry smile. Lisbon didn't bother asking Jane how he was; there was little point. It was clear he wasn't looking after himself - he'd only been there for three months and had already lost a considerable amount of weight. He looked bored, tired and grateful for the distraction to the monotony.

"Van Pelt visits regularly; Cho and Rigsby too. What took you so long?"

She went to stand and Jane's expression quickly changed.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean… Lisbon, don't go yet."

"Fine."

She sat down warily and waited for him to speak again. Lisbon always knew that this was going to be odd, but she hadn't imagined her desperation to leave as soon as she saw him. This wasn't the Jane she knew. Then again, did he even exist anymore - hadn't killing Red John effectively destroyed any illusions she'd neatly constructed about the man?

"If you look over there. Yeah, him," Jane said brightly as her eyes settled on a particularly butch looking man. "That's Carl Frasier. He murdered his whole family. You only knew about his brother, right? That helps you, doesn't it?"

She paused. Yes, that would be useful information, if only he had the _proof_, rather than gossip, hearsay and his stupid ability to read people. Lisbon narrowed her eyes and her frown deepened just a little. That wasn't why she was there and they both knew it; he was just distracting, stalling, diverting her attention. Trying desperately to extend the amount of time she kept him company for.

Obviously hoping they could talk like old times.

But, naturally, her stubborn streak decided to come out to play. Lisbon was angry and justifiably so. Besides, it was a big deal for her to be able to actually face coming in here and therefore, she wasn't willing to indulge in mindless chit-chat. He clearly didn't understand her emotional turmoil, the memories that being in a place like this evoked. Last time she was sitting in a prison, she had been trying to make her brother see sense. That hadn't gone all that well. And she was beginning to doubt herself, to doubt her decision to come here. Jane wasn't really worth this hassle, was he? He was more than likely to be as much as a hopeless case as Thomas Lisbon.

"That's not what you want to talk about, is it?"

"Why are you even asking?" she asked dryly, crossing her arms. "You should know - I'm _so_ easy to read, apparently."

"You want to talk about Red John."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Why do you think?"

It was blindingly obvious, wasn't it? She'd given up so much, so damn much to look after him and all he could do was throw it back in her face. It didn't matter that she had seriously compromised her career by continually backing him up and pulling him out of deep holes. Who cared if she made herself look incompetent because she couldn't control him while he had been in the employ of the CBI? What about every time she saved his sorry skin, prevented him from getting killed at the expense of her conscience?

Was it that hard for him to just be sorry for killing Red John instead of letting her deal with him the legal way?

But of course Patrick Jane couldn't see that. His ego was so big that it practically eclipsed the sun. The only thing he'd truly wanted before he killed Red John was to carry out that deed. Now, she didn't know what he wanted at all. Lisbon was fairly certain that he had little to no respect for her - not then, not now. He just couldn't understand where she was coming from or what she needed from him now. One simple word that could make everything just seem a little bit better.

"My stance hasn't changed."

"Right."

She stood. That was all she needed to know. The rest of her team were more than welcome to carry on visiting the egotistical jackass, but she wouldn't be wasting any more of her time on him. Lisbon had far too much to worry about without him and his petty concerns. It hurt, of course it did, but realizations like that always did. Besides, it was better this way. Cutting him out of her life would be akin to ripping off a band aid. It would hurt for a while, but sooner or later the pain would fade. It was preferable to get it over and done with quickly rather than letting the ache continue and go on and on with no end in sight.

"What exactly was it you were expecting, Teresa?"

She turned to look over her shoulder briefly. He really felt no remorse whatsoever and she knew she should have realized that he never would. Lisbon had thought that the 'sorry' she was never going to get would have been enough, but she was wrong. If she couldn't even get that, no doubt there would be no end of other disappointments in sight, just to add to the ones they had already shared.

"Nothing."

end


	45. It's mine

**A/N:** For those who don't know, the 2010 Jellies are currently accepting nominations! Also, this is for Chibs. She's evil. I'm going to keep saying that because she is. She's stolen my bed for a start. I think that's proof enough. *pouts*

Also, I'm starting to consider themes for my next 'larger' collection. Any suggestions are gratefully appreciated. Otherwise, I might just pick 50 prompts of some variety and go with that.

Thank you to: NellietheMarvelous, Koezh, Jisbon4ever, anthropologist, Viktorija and MissNitaGirl for reviewing _Waiting For Nothing_. It's much appreciated. Also to WildDaisies10 for the quick read through to make sure it made sense!

x tromana

* * *

**Title:** after the sun  
**Author:** tromana  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon  
**Disclaimer: **Not mine.  
**Summary: **After all, very little can compare to the pain and anguish you've suffered. Episode tag to 1.03 Red Tide  
**Notes: **Written for Chiisana Minako, who is evil.

**after the sun**

Sometimes, it's easy to forget that you're not the only one with a tough life.

Especially so when that thing is the death of your beloved family - and you are the one responsible for it.

It's far easier to compare yourselves to everyone else and to think that they have it easy while all you can do is toil away until you find the answers to life's mysteries. Starting by finding the serial killer who mercilessly slaughtered your wife and child and doing the same to them. It won't bring them back, but it'll sure as hell make you feel better.

At least, that's what you keep telling yourself.

After all, very little can compare to the pain and anguish you've suffered. Not unless somebody has found themselves trapped in an oddly similar situation or if fate really seems to have something against them. That isn't something that happens often and you've always been skeptical of people who claim as much anyway. And you've heard a lot of those claims in your time.

Besides, it's only natural.

You've been enjoying yourself recently though. Since you got back from your rather humiliating suspension and since there's been another addition to the team. Grace Van Pelt provides somebody else to toy with, somebody else to manipulate. Not that you don't appreciate the other, but as they say, a change is as good as a rest - and you've just been 'lucky' enough to experience both.

In the quieter moments, you feel guilty about that. How dare you feel happy when your daughter never reached her sixth birthday? How dare you enjoy yourself when your wife's parents outlived _their _child? The sunlight has long since been extinguished from your life, so these thoughts, theses feelings are just false, merely wishful thinking.

Dreams of a better life you cannot have, simply because you do not deserve it.

But this has been one of those cases which you cannot help but love. Teenagers are just so full of life, energy and enthusiasm and it's infectious. They also respond the best to your mind games and party tricks - they're a challenge to win over at first, but when you have, there's the wide eyed wonder that you get with kids. Most adults loathe people their age, but you, you see it for the precious time it is. They're young/old people for such a short while and it won't be long until the door to childhood is completely shut behind them. And besides, your boss practically treats you as a child, so you might as well indulge that inner youth every once in a while. It's not as if she doesn't expect you to act in that way, so you're not exactly disappointing anybody.

She, however, doesn't really seem all that bothered by your actions. Lisbon seems both distracted and desperate to close the case in equal measures. The teens are fine, except for the fact that they're the guilty party, of course, something that disappointed you somewhat. Obviously they lost their innocence sooner than you anticipated. She is mildly repulsed by Flipper, who sleeps with them the moment they're of age, but that could be said of any member of the team.

No, it's the alcoholic father that causes her problems.

The alcoholic father who she is bidding farewell to right now.

Mr. Tanner knows what it's like. Knows how it feels to lose a precious child. Of course, he still has two more children who need his love and are desperate for his attention. The loss of young Christine doesn't change that. He's still a father and that's exactly how you feel. The only difference is he has children who are alive and you do not.

But he doesn't care. All Mr. Tanner wants to do is drink himself into oblivion and Lisbon most certainly does not approve of that.

The question is _why_.

Normally, police officers do not worry too much about the emotions that the relatives of victims go through; you know that first hand. They remained uninvolved, attempted to keep a neutral stance on proceedings. Unless somebody is committing a crime, which this man is not, they don't interfere. It's not their place to. Besides, there's often too much of a risk of compromising precious evidence and therefore having the case thrown out of court. And you do enough of that on your own, never mind having any of the agents crossing that fine line between investigation and personal involvement.

After a quick glance, you part ways. You know where she's going, you don't need to watch. As predictable as always, Teresa Lisbon heads towards her office and you don't even need to be there to know that she probably slammed the door shut.

She needs time alone, time to cool off. Off course you like needling people, getting reactions out of them, but contrary to popular belief, you do actually know when to back off. Best let her attack some paper work, run off some of her hidden frustrations in peace while you go and do something more constructive. Your expertise isn't needed right - you're nearly finished with the paperwork pertaining to the latest case already. Then again, being a mere consultant, there's rarely much you need to do.

Anyway, even if you had a mountain of the stuff, you wouldn't care. There's bigger fish to fry in the immediate future.

000

You know just when and where to find her.

It's obvious that Lisbon will have stayed late. She always does after stressful cases, which is approximately ninety percent of them. The woman is a slave to her work and it's virtually impossible for her to be dragged away from it. Only Minelli seems to have the skills and dexterity to extract her from a case file when necessary, but that's hardly surprising. He _is_ her superior and she wouldn't dare defy the direct orders of him - even if she knows better. She still has so much to learn.

There's a park near the CBI headquarters - you go there on occasion. When you're too stressed to unwind, when you can't get those images that haunt you out of your mind. When the insomnia is being a particular nightmare and all you need is a breath of fresh air to try and make you feel just a little more awake. Lisbon's worked for the agency more than long enough to know about it. It also helps that you've seen her there once - when you were both angry about your suspension over the Tolliver case. She needed to unwind because you'd apparently gotten a man shot.

And you, you had never believed she'd go through with it in the first place. Such a petty reason for suspension. As if she'd never screwed up at work before.

But that's in the past, not something to dwell upon. Somebody wise once said you should put your past behind you. Oh how you wish that was true. Minor things like that, easy. The bigger things, however…

You spot her, sitting on a bench, gazing out to the middle-distance. The breeze plays gently with tendrils of her hair and her fingers wrap themselves incessantly around the strap of her purse. It keeps her hands busy, at least. And besides, there's worse ways to deal with personal anxieties. You know that better than most.

It's clear she's upset, she's hurting. Teresa Lisbon has always seemed so strong and secure in your eyes, the image before you juxtaposes uncomfortably with what you've been exposed to in the past. Then again, that's partially your fault and your incessant desire to make yourself seem like you have it worse off than everyone else in the world.

Maybe you should accept that other people are allowed their own hidden demons as well?

You shake your head. One step at a time.

Right. Okay. Other people are allowed to be _sad_ as well.

She notices you almost immediately. Imperceptibly, her muscles tension and her breathing quickens. Clearly, she didn't expect company but you're not taking a no (or anything else for that matter) for an answer. Anyway, she has no power over you here. This isn't her office - it's a public place. The most she can do is walk away if you happen to sit next to her.

"Jane."

"Fancy seeing you here."

Your tone is light, carefree and that's the intention. No point in trying to wind her up when you want the exact opposite effect. A stressed Lisbon makes for an uncomfortable working condition. She's famed for taking her mood out on everyone else in the office. Regardless of what she thinks, she really does wear her heart on her sleeve.

"Cut the crap, Jane. You knew I'd come here."

"Why did you come here then? If you thought I would follow you, why did you bother?"

She blinks. That sentence _could_ have made a little more sense. You could explain yourself but instead, you brush it aside. Doing so would only make matters even more confusing.

"Strawberry?"

You pull a tub out of a plastic carrier bag and a frown knits across Lisbon's brow. They're her favorite fruit - you've watched her sneakily eating them in her office, with one hand typing incessantly at the computer and the other holding a ripe, red berry.

"Strawberries, really?" she replies, clearly wanting to deny her fondness for them.

"Oh come on, what little girl doesn't like strawberries?"

It's meant to be a flippant remark, but it's still tinged with sadness. You can remember your daughter's face, messy after demolishing a bowl of the fruit. Wiping down her fingers one by one so they're no longer sticky before she somehow manages to transfer the juice onto the television remote or something. Being a father is something you miss and something you crave in equal measures.

While she's not your daughter, cheering up Lisbon is a suitable replacement. For now, anyway. You don't want to belittle her too much; she's normally a strong, fearless woman and you respect that. Doesn't mean she doesn't need looking after every so often though.

"I'm not a little girl any more, Jane," Lisbon replies.

The mood sobers and lightens in equal measures and you breathe a sigh of relief. At least she's unwittingly brought you back to earth, back to the land of the living. She's stopped you thinking - again - of the demons in your past. The ones that threaten to strangle you and drag you back under at every single turn. Lisbon's been doing a lot of that to you lately, now you come to think of it.

It seems like, despite your best intentions, she's not going to stop the Mother Teresa act with you either.

You shake your head, trying not to feel too guilty about the tables turning. At least her demeanor seems lighter, happier and you haven't really done much. Just talked briefly and eaten a couple of pieces of fruit. Funny what something as simple as that can do.

Perhaps you're just tied to each other now, doomed to try and pull each other out of black holes whenever necessary? Or, if all else fails, wallow in self-pity with one another. o

It could be worse. Despite her abrasive nature and stand-offish attitude, Lisbon is a nice person. You just have to get to know her first.

She reaches out for the last strawberry in the pot and you briefly wonder how long you've been up here. The sun has already set in front of you and the stars have come out to play. It's pretty, relaxing but cooling down fast. Soon, the cold will start nipping at the extremities and that will be uncomfortable. You'll have to encourage her inside soon; neither of you have the time to be ill. Instead of dealing with that immediately, you swat her hand away and snatch the offending piece of fruit.

"It's mine."

She pouts, but is clearly doesn't mind much really. Mr. Tanner had definitely got to her - it didn't take a miracle man to work out that somebody in her family had had a brush with alcoholism. Probably her father - perhaps it was induced by her mother's death? But that was just an assumption and she was unlikely to talk right now. The moment had gone, slipped through your fingers like sand through an hourglass. You're not going to force her to either; she'd feel better if she entrusted the information upon you willingly rather than have it extracted from her painfully.

"Fine, you can have it."

Lisbon takes it with gratitude and you automatically know she has no intention of moving any time soon. Instead, you slip off your jacket and put it on her shoulders. Normally, you would pass comment on how surprisingly compliant she's being. Instead, you leave it. It just doesn't feel right.

Maybe the sun will rise again on a bright, new morning?

end


	46. Oh hush

**A/N:** Two fluff-ish pieces in a row. You can't say I don't spoil you. *pokes out tongue* Anyway, this is the last of my SSS oneshots, but not the last of my SSS fics. Seriously. This is why you don't write so much - it takes forever and a day to upload. *curses at self*

Thank you to: Frogster, Chiisana Minako, Jisbon4ever, Viktorija, Ebony10 and hardly loquacious for reviewing _after the sun_. It's much appreciated. Also to Div and Chibi for checking this over. You guys rock.

x tromana

* * *

**Title:** Missing**  
Author:** tromana  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon  
**Disclaimer: **Not mine.  
**Summary: **One day, they would be on the same page as one another.  
**Spoilers: **General S2  
**Notes: **Written for boutondor in the Jello Forever Summer Secret Santa. Beta'd by Chiisana Minako and Divinia Serit.

**Missing**

_"Change your life today. Don't gamble on the future, act now, without delay." _- Simone de Beauvoir

She met him while standing over a dead body.

Not the most romantic of locations, by all accounts, but Teresa Lisbon barely had a social life. Therefore, if she was going to meet a man, it was more than likely going to be at work.

He was a coroner; the department seemed to have installed rotating doors to deal with the high staff turnover. Said problem was apparently happening because of one man: Patrick Jane. For people who dealt with dead bodies day in, day out, they seemed to be a very thin skinned bunch.

That surprised (and embarrassed) her somewhat, but she tried not to think too much of it.

Lisbon did, however, think quite a bit of the way Gregory Wilson confidently told Jane to go screw himself when Jane commented on the fact that Greg lived on his own with several cats. That was what prompted her to, rather uncharacteristically, give him her cell phone number.

Rather naively, she told herself that it was for work purposes only. That having Greg deal with their cases would make things run a hell of a lot more smoothly. And it would stop the coroner's department's employment issues too.

She certainly didn't complain when he rang her for strictly out of work matters though.

When one date turned into two, then quickly three, four, five and even more, Lisbon was pleasantly surprised. It had, rather embarrassingly, been years since she had last had such a committed relationship. But Greg was understanding; his own job seemed to have finely trained him in the art of understanding her own. Most other men would never have been able to tolerate the long hours she worked, the stretches of time spent on out of town cases, but he did. Mainly because he was busy elbow-deep in dead bodies.

Jane could immediately tell the difference in her and he could also tell that she knew he knew about it due to the shift in his own reactions. She didn't need his skills of perception to tell that he was practically giving her the proverbial cold shoulder. Choosing to accompany Cho and Rigsby when questioning suspects, opting to take Grace on his latest wild goose chase instead…

Never quite holding her gaze either. Mainly because he _couldn't. _

He liked seeing her happy, not that she would believe it. Liked knowing that she actually had a social life rather than just being a slave to her job. He even liked knowing that all the men who had left her down one way or another hadn't completely destroyed any hope of her having a happy, healthy relationship.

He just didn't like that it wasn't with _him_.

There was no need for him to be jealous, not really. He knew that he was in no way ready for another relationship, not at all ready to commit himself to another woman. He still wore the ring that signified his love for a dead woman and didn't intend to take it off any time soon. Besides, he couldn't trust either. Only, he had problems trusting himself rather than other individuals. He didn't know how to open up to other people, not anymore.

Not since…

He didn't realize it was Greg she was dating until the next time the three of them were stood over a dead body together. The relaxed body language gave them both away, as did the stolen glances. Greg's hand grazing against the small of her back, entirely unnecessarily, was just the icing on the cake.

Jane smiled tightly in his direction and a few words slipped out, though unusually for him, he wasn't quite sure what they were.

All he knew was that both Greg and Lisbon took offense.

Any explanation he could come up with was not good enough for Lisbon. What with his recent attitude problem with her and this newest incident, she found herself struggling to even tolerate him.

Though she wouldn't admit it, she was contradicting herself though. Had it been anyone but Jane, she would have reprimanded them far more seriously. But she was soft on the blond and couldn't explain how or why. So instead, she took to attempting to ignore said feelings. It was easier that way.

Greg's ruffled feathers took longer for her to smooth over. His first reactions to Jane's outburst were strange, especially considering how he had dealt with her consultant beforehand. But something at the back of her mind was screaming something else, something which she regarded as being almost completely ludicrous; that Gregory Wilson felt threatened by Jane's presence in her life.

That was confirmed later that month when Cho called her to say that Jane had broken his foot. How, he didn't say, but it didn't matter either way. Nor did it matter that she was having more arguments with him than usual and that he had been generally unhappy since he realized she was actually dating somebody. Lisbon still had to go see Jane, check that he was okay and that he wasn't driving the hospital staff up the wall. He was a member of her team and it was her duty to do so.

Greg didn't see it that way, however.

He promised Lisbon that if she ran to Jane's beck and call, he wouldn't be there when she got home. He didn't say it to be cruel; it was more of a fact of him finally working out that Jane would always be a priority over himself. And he just had to test that it wasn't just a theory in the form of an ultimatum.

The next time Teresa Lisbon saw Greg was over yet another dead body. He quietly informed her that he was moving to Northern California for a change of scenery. That he was just working through his month's notice, then he'd be off.

Though it hurt to hear it and she had genuinely hoped they could remain friends, she knew it was for the best.

000

Jane knew that Lisbon was unhappy, was licking her wounds.

Normally, he would take the opportunity to interfere, to do something about it. Jane simply couldn't resist prying into things, especially if people would rather he didn't. It was like the big, threatening button which explicitly said 'do not press'. He just had to go and press it. Lisbon mourning the breakdown of a relationship was one of those things he should avoid, but consequently adored.

However, unlike usual, he was being distracted by another woman.

He wasn't exactly looking for a relationship, not really. Technically, he was still as emotionally unavailable as when Lisbon first met Greg. And he most certainly still had no intention of taking off his wedding band. Instead, he decided that this must have been a sort of rebound relationship, just one that was a long time coming.

Not that he would tell Mary that. Especially because Mary was using him for the exact same reasons, so who was he to judge?

The red-headed dentist had been intrigued by him while they investigated her husband's death. Normally, the kind of things he said to her would have gotten them thrown out of her house. Instead, she just laughed it off the way a woman who was secure in her relationship with her albeit deceased husband did. She and James had been happy, faithful and Jane suspected she wasn't mourning properly. Or, at least in the way society deemed it normal to mourn somebody's passing, anyway.

When she thanked him for catching the killer, Jane realized there was something more to it than mere gratitude.

And it wasn't attraction either.

More of a relief of sorts.

That was why, much to Lisbon and the others bemusement, he chased (or rather, hobbled, given his healing foot) after her.

He just couldn't let a mystery like Mary Hollis walk out of his life. Even if Lisbon's relationship had just hit rocky ground and really, he should be comforting her instead. But it wasn't in Jane's nature to do the comforting, he preferred to do the needling. He shied away from troubling emotions because they had a habit of reminding him just how much he was hurting too. When his wife was pregnant, he'd spent half of the time away on tour simply to avoid arguing with a hormonal woman.

Mary had been so entertained by a man attempting to run on crutches that she couldn't say no to his offer of a dinner date.

Lisbon, however, was simply sad.

Sad that the thing she had with Greg never worked out.

Sad that she was so focused on the job that she was willing to sacrifice an otherwise-healthy relationship in order to keep tabs on Patrick Jane.

And in all honesty, sad to see Patrick Jane moving on and _not _with her.

Maybe she had been reading between the lines a little too much and seeing things in glances that clearly weren't there. But she had thought, despite her relationship, that there was something between herself and Jane. What, she'd never been sure, but just something.

Now, she swore they were like two ships, passing in the night. As one of them finally became ready for a relationship, the other one wasn't.

She just hoped that Mary would treat Jane right. He deserved as much after all this time.

Of course, she had no idea of Jane's ulterior motives.

He was enjoying himself with Mary, though. She was vivacious, fun, but at the same time, secretive.

Which meant Jane enjoyed it all the more.

He hadn't told Lisbon, but he was still researching the Hollis case. Jane hadn't noticed it until after the arrest, but there was a hold he'd overlooked. Not only that, but he was certain that Mary was involved somehow.

Hence the reason he was more than happy to date her, if only to keep her close.

It didn't take him too long to find it though. An unexplained deficit in the surgery's funds. The money used to pay the hit man to kill her husband. For cheating, once, ironically enough.

Jane didn't know who was more pleased with her arrest: himself for finally unraveling it or Lisbon, for reasons unknown.

It was just a shame that, emotionally speaking, it sent him right back to square one. He'd grown oddly fond of Mary in their brief time together.

000

More relationships came and went. None lasted long and in the gaps when neither of them found themselves entangled with a romantic partner, neither dared to do anything about it. What if they screwed it up like their relationships with everyone else? What if there wasn't anything there and they were merely hallucinating.

What if…

What if he was scared off by her brothers, like Alexander was scared off by Jane? All because he was so determined to make sure their relationship was perfect. Then there was Ryan, foisted upon her by her brothers. That was never going to work. Lisbon had even been re-acquainted with Walter Mashburn, but couldn't run away from him fast enough when he started suggesting cocktail parties and round the world trips.

What if they couldn't last the distance? Jane's most recent dalliances were more like one night stands than anything of any substance. Just enough to remind him what it was like to have a woman's love and affection, if only for a short while. It also provided him with an apt reminder that it was something he actually quite liked and when he was ready for it, something he actually needed.

He was beginning to feel pretty ready for it now, actually.

Especially since, recently, Red John was apprehended. By Lisbon, naturally. He'd been taking leave, voluntarily for a change. They'd had a few stressful cases and he could tell he was getting on everyone's nerves, especially Lisbon's. So, instead of letting her snap, he had disappeared for a while. And that was when he received the phone call, saying that Red John had struck once more. But instead of agreeing to come and investigate, he stayed behind. For some reason, it hadn't held the same kind of pull as beforehand. Maybe he'd been starting to see sense?

He certainly didn't expect another call two days later, saying that Red John was in their cells, awaiting trial.

Even at that news, he didn't come rushing back.

Lisbon had reacted slightly oddly to that, but tried not to think much of it. Jane had given up on his nemesis for no apparent reason. But then again, considering who he was, she shouldn't have been too surprised. Patrick Jane never reacted normally to anything and if he was finally seeing sense about things, she really couldn't complain.

Once he did get back, they fell back into their old routine. Bickering, flirting, occasionally dating other people just to distract themselves.

It was just another normal day, another normal case. Jane darted around a flying something, which looked suspiciously like a box of chocolates and Lisbon quickly apologized. Sometimes when she threw stuff, she was aiming for him, but that wasn't the case this time around. She apologized quickly and he simply grinned and took a seat. He understood her all too well and the fact she needed to take her frustrations out on an innocent gift was hardly surprising.

"It's from Walter," she explained as Jane placed a coffee down on her desk.

"Mash?" Jane queried, using the nickname with some fondness and she nodded in response.

"He doesn't understand the meaning of the word no."

She didn't feel the need to add that was something Jane had in common with him.

"That doesn't surprise me."

"I did try to tell you that 'empty glamour' would never suit me."

"So you merely dated him and toyed with his feelings to prove a point?"

"Oh hush."

She sipped at her coffee and they fell into a restive silence. Jane grabbed a file and started flicking through it with feigned interest. He knew the majority of the contents; the case had been giving them problems for a while.

"This one still causing you problems?"

"You know it is, Jane."

"Some people say that sometimes, a change is as good as a rest."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"What are you doing tonight?"

"Spit it out."

"Would you like to do something tonight? Go bowling, to the movies… I don't know, even a walk?"

"Are you asking me out on a date, Patrick Jane?"

"I do believe I am."

"Okay then."

She smiled slightly as he beamed in response.

It was about time they tried to ignore all those terrible 'what if's' and just see what happened for a change.

end


	47. You're sweet

**A/N:** Another mentalistprompt fic meme fic. There's already a lot of good stuff on there and I think you should go check it out, leave some prompts and maybe write a drabble or two. You don't even have to be a member of LiveJournal and the link is in my profile and...

Okay, enough not so subtle advertising. Thank you to: AlternativeRocker, Viktorija, lisbon69, Frogster, Jisbon4ever, Indie Sol, Ebony10 and anthropologist for reviewing _Missing_. I really appreciate it.

x tromana

* * *

**Title:** fool for you  
**Author:** tromana  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon  
**Disclaimer: **Not mine.  
**Summary: **Fighting against yourself is never a good thing.  
**Spoilers:** Up to 2.23 Red Sky in the Morning  
**Notes: **Written for Yana in the mentalistprompt fic meme.

**fool for you**

You were the one to discover him, coated in saran wrap and bound to that chair. After patiently helping him from his bonds, you were also the one who sat and waited for the ambulance with him, stoically ignoring the two dead bodies. Batted off the questions from the poor kid somehow stuck in the middle of this sorry situation, trying to explain how he had to stay put because he had to give them evidence.

Wesley, like Jane, is now a Red John survivor. Somehow, that feels wrong. Poor kid is going to require years of psychiatric help now. He just doesn't realize it yet.

He's back with the others now, at the headquarters. Van Pelt, the most empathetic of the bunch, is probably diligently taking down notes and gently coercing the information out of him.

And you're the one, sitting impatiently in a dingy room at the hospital, waiting desperately for the prognosis. It's always been that way though.

He wanders off and makes some sort of a mess and you're the one left to pick up the pieces. The proverbial knight in shining armor. Mother Teresa, in more ways than one.

(_Always_ Mother Teresa. You're the one saving other people, every. single. time. Nobody thinks you actually might need help anymore, not even your brothers. Or maybe it's a case of nobody else actually giving a damn?)

He appears to be relatively well. Or at least unhurt and a little bit shell-shocked, but that's least you could expect. The doctor says he's fine to be discharged and looks at you almost accusingly because you were the one to rush him to the emergency room just to get him checked over. But you stand by your decision. If something had happened to him because he hadn't received the medical care he needed, you wouldn't have been able to live with yourself.

If something still does happen to him, you still won't.

Not that he really seems to care.

But then again, since when has he ever?

* * *

"This tape."

You slam it down in front of him and his eyes linger on it for but a second. Immediately, his attention returns to your face and he stares at you in that way. The one that makes it feel like his eyes are boring into your very soul. With Jane, that's probably a more accurate description than most. Given just half a minute's appraisal, he has the uncanny ability to tell you more about yourself than you probably want to know.

"Why didn't you tell me? That he spoke to you? What he actually said?"

He just shrugs and yet again, you feel like you're banging your head against a brick wall.

You know why. Because he'd rather wallow in his inner turmoil than dare to think somebody else might just be idiotic enough to care about him.

* * *

It's a week later now and you're still trying to get him to talk.

A hapless task and you know that the rest of the team thinks you're just wasting your time. Even if he knows something about Red John that you cannot glean from that tape which, uncharacteristically, the serial killer left behind. Which, of course, means he meant to leave it.

And it tells you very little you didn't already know. Except for the murderer's penchant for William Blake.

You're sick and tired of the questions, the second guessing, constantly feeling wrong-footed.

And not just by Red John.

The other guilty party is staring at the kettle, seemingly wishing that it would hurry up and boil the water contents. You clear your throat slightly and he turns to offer you a small smile.

"Lisbon."

"Are you okay?"

"I'll be better when I can have a cup of tea."

"I meant…"

"I know what you meant," he replies darkly.

You sigh. It is a bit soon for him to be talking about his experiences, but you can't help but try. It's better to talk than to bottle things up and explode later.

(Memories of a chair flying through a window, glass smashing all over the corridor. It was meant to be feigned, but a lot of what you said was the truth.)

"But…"

"You're sweet, but I'm fine. Really."

He tweaks your nose and walks off, just like that. It's a little irrational, but you cannot help but be annoyed that he has just turned one of your phrases onto you. People saying their fine when they're clearly not is surprisingly annoying when you're on the receiving end for a change.

Maybe you should try and be more honest in the future?

Yeah, like that's ever going to happen.

* * *

He's shaking and shivering on the couch. Eyes tightly clenched shut and trapped in his imaginary world, completely at the mercy of his nightmares. You didn't think he _actually _slept on that damn thing. Cynical old you always assumed that he was feigning simply to get out of doing some proper work.

Is it safe to wake him up?

Yes, it's dangerous to disturb sleepwalkers apparently.

Tentatively, you shake his shoulders, calling his name. Of course, he stubbornly ignores you. Like he always does. Even when unconscious, he just has to defy your instructions, doesn't he?

You're on the verge of dumping a glass of water over his head when his eyes spring open.

He doesn't say anything but the gratitude in his eyes is enough.

* * *

The first priority with the Red John case is now finding the whereabouts of Kristina Frye.

Though it's officially been handing over to Missing Persons, because there are still the obvious connections with the case, it means you have to work together.

And nobody likes to play nice with your team. Not anymore.

"It's obvious," Jane declares in front of two suited officials representing the other unit. "If Red John doesn't want her found, she won't be found. You're wasting your time."

Sometimes, you wonder why you even bother to tolerate him, the patronizing bastard. But you know why; you've always known. It's just not something you like to think about, to consider. Patrick Jane has far too much sway over you and you know it.

If you could change the balance somehow, you probably would.

But is it even possible now?

* * *

He lashes out against a relative of a victim, a husband who cheated on his wife shortly before her death. The change in character is completely unexpected and you're the one to peel him off the floor. Well, there was little point in changing the habit of a lifetime. Besides, Jane is much more worse off than the other man, who is already being dragged away by an ever-reliable Cho.

You'll be trying desperately to persuade that man, however much a scumbag he actually is, not to press charges later.

Jane may not be 'quite right in the head', but he is who he is and nothing can change that. For now, you just need an explanation. A reason why he attempted to resort to fists in order to resolve a discussion, of sorts.

"I cheated on my wife once," he whispers in a strained sort of voice later, when you're shut alone in your office with him. "She never forgave me."

Ah. That'd do it then.

* * *

On the anniversary of Bosco's death, he's the only one who remembers.

The rest of the team are all caught up in the current case and you can't fault them for that. They're good workers and that's the main thing. Besides, you're the one who prevented the talk of personal lives in office. The boundaries are useful most of the time, but on days like today, you just wish you had somebody who would listen to you.

You see these people day in, day out and you barely know a single thing about them outside of the working environment.

Apart from Jane, of course. He has a knack of getting things out of you and in return, he occasionally gives you little snippets about his life. Just little things, to try and buy your trust with. It's all he has to barter with, really.

Over a glass of wine, you remember Bosco, remember everything he did for you. Somehow, you manage to pour your heart out to a seemingly unsuspecting Jane but he hangs onto your every word.

Regardless of what he thinks of himself, Jane is a decent human being.

And with a charm and charisma like his, it's only natural that you grow just a little bit attached to him.

* * *

Jane is right. Kristina isn't found.

The case lands up disappearing beneath others and a layer of dust before it is eventually declared a cold case.

He wears his smug, know it all grin during the announcement and you just wish you could punch him in the face.

But you can't, because he's Jane and regardless of how much he irritates you, you can't help but care for the damn fool.

(Always falling for the wrong men, aren't you? The ones that are completely out of bounds. Remember Bosco?)

Or rather, more fool you.

* * *

When Red John strikes once more, Jane falls apart again.

It always happens, you expect it now. That reaction is as regular as clockwork.

You just wish you could do more for him. Not that you don't already do a lot for him.

(Some say too much, but that's another matter entirely.)

It breaks your heart, seeing him like this. The world is unfair, cruel. It keeps tossing him a bone and then taking it back as quickly as it was offered. Jane needs closure and thus, you need it too.

But would apprehending Red John be enough? The serial killer's demise would never bring his family back.

His life would be so different if his ego hadn't gotten the better of him.

The idea of a happy, whole Jane seems so bizarre. Half of you wishes you knew him, back then. The other half, not so much. He is very keen to make sure you know he wasn't a nice person back then. That he's changed significantly and learned his lesson.

Mainly, you wish that one day, things could be different. That Red John would stop slipping through your fingers as he does every single fucking time. The man's not superhuman, he has to make a mistake sooner or later and preferably, sooner. This has already gone on for far too long.

(You also wish that you could trust Jane enough to love him properly, like you want to and that he could do the same to you.)

For some reason, it doesn't feel like that day will ever come.

* * *

_But I'm in so deep  
__You know I'm such a fool for you  
__You got me wrapped around your finger  
__Do you have to let it linger?  
__-_Linger_, The Cranberries_


	48. It looks good

**A/N: **Still migrainey. But at least I'm getting a move on some fics I've wanted to start for absolutely ages. I'm pretty pleased about that.

Thank you to: anthropologist, yaba, Indie Sol, Jisbon4ever, Frogster, Viktorija, NellietheMarvelous, Famous4it and PhoenixWytch for reviewing _fool for you_. I appreciate it.

Anyway, this is another mentalistprompt fic meme oneshot. It was written for andixx13.

x tromana

* * *

**Title:** Another Shot to Hell  
**Author:** tromana  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon  
**Disclaimer: **Not mine.  
**Summary: **She hated being forced to remember, to deal with memories of times long gone. Because then, she had to think about what she's actually done.  
**Notes: **Written for andixx13 in the livejournal mentalistprompt fic meme.

**Another Shot to Hell**

The first time she shot a man to death, she landed up puking her guts out.

It didn't matter that the bastard had killed two innocent children. The two kids were barely out of their nappies. They could have done anything with their lives. Found the cure to cancer, became one of Hollywood's greats, simply raised a family. Anything. Instead, he'd cut their lives drastically short.

Just like she'd cut his short.

Did that mean she was now as bad as the murderer?

Bosco noticed. Relatively soon after, he noticed there was still something wrong with her.

Well, she'd given herself away. He'd asked Lisbon what her opinions were of a crime scene. How did she respond? With a hollow 'it looks good'. After a pointed gaze, she managed to get herself back into gear, at least for the rest of the afternoon. Bosco knew that the sullen mood would eventually return though. He already knew Lisbon well enough to know that that was just what she was like.

Besides, it was only natural for her to brood a little. It happened to every young rookie who was new on the block. Well, every young rookie who had the misfortune of having to shoot a criminal to death to save the lives of themselves and their partner.

He also knew that Lisbon would get over it though, even if it was something she would always remember. She was tough. She was a fighter. And it didn't require much of his own interventions to help her get back on track.

Within six months, she was in the employ of the California Bureau of Investigation, the CBI.

Just as she always deserved to be.

000

She didn't have a choice. She knew she didn't.

If Lisbon hadn't have shot the man, it would have been her lying in the state morgue instead of him.

She tried not to dwell on it.

Her boss told her it was a job well done, patted her on the back. Then he informed her that as Dryer was being promoted to senior agent of another unit, she was to become his second in command.

He didn't even notice she was still aching inside.

The discrepancy in her reaction and everyone else's unnerved her. A man was dead and she was being promoted.

Just how did that work?

000

"I was told you did a good - great - job out in the field today, Agent Lisbon."

"Sir?"

She always felt uncomfortable around Virgil Minelli. That was hardly surprising. He was the top dog in the CBI and ultimately, every decision came down to his say so.

Lisbon knew why she was here. She'd shot another man.

It was clear to anyone that she was becoming a little too trigger-happy. That meant she was a liability. In the next five seconds, Minelli was going to ask her to hand over her badge and gun and that was it.

She didn't blame him. Were the shoe on the other foot…

"You are being promoted, Agent."

"Pardon?"

"How does senior agent of the SCU sound to you?"

It was becoming increasingly bizarre. Every time she killed somebody, instead of being reprimanded, she was congratulated for it.

000

Ever since her promotion, she had relaxed a little around Minelli. He was one of the few men who was willing to fight in her corner. He praised her when she earned it and supported her whenever a case turned sour. She knew she couldn't ask for a better boss.

There _was_ something else she could ask for though.

"The Red John case," she stated and Minelli looked at her with interest. "I want it."

Red John was like a poison apple, the cause of many a good agent's downfall. A couple died, one was driven insane, but most simply gave up. The last senior agent who had dealt with it had ended up cutting his losses and taking a quiet sheriff's job back east. There were less people for him to shoot to kill there. Besides, the infamous serial killer was a step too far for him.

"Fine. But only if you're willing to work with Patrick Jane as well."

"Fine."

000

With Patrick Jane around, the bodies seemed to pile up faster than ever before.

Each one weighed down on her conscience just a little bit more than the previous one.

000

Hardy died because Jane pulled the trigger.

Not her, Patrick Jane.

Though she hated seeing Dr. Roy Carmen and would never admit it, least of all to the psychologist, he was right. She wasn't over it. Hadn't adjusted to the fact that somebody else had died in her place again. It didn't matter at all that she wasn't the one who fired the gun; her guilt complex needed very little excuse to kick in.

It was just a part of who she was.

There was a reason she bottled things up, rather than talked openly about them. She hated being forced to remember, to deal with memories of times long gone. Because then, she had to think about what she had actually done.

Think about the number of bodies, continually building up.

All because of her.

And there was seemingly nothing she could do to stop it.

Carmen, even with his ulterior motives, was clever enough to work it out though. He knew that Lisbon's mind was her own worst enemy and he played on it, simply to keep her in his presence for long enough.

If he wasn't trying to set her up for a crime she didn't commit, he would have quite liked to have helped her. Stopped Lisbon from viciously pulling herself apart at every given opportunity.

Instead, he added a severe distrust of shrinks to her ongoing list of problems.

000

It was grief (and several shots of tequila) that forced her straight into Patrick Jane's open arms.

Unlike Carmen, who forced her to remember, he was there to help her forget.

Mainly, because he wanted to forget too.

Lisbon, naturally blamed herself. If she'd been there quicker, if they'd agreed to give the family the protection they'd asked for. If she had caught the bastard three weeks earlier when they had had the chance, then maybe, just maybe, another little girl wouldn't have died of a gunshot wound.

There was no denying that the lows of her job were incredibly low.

And Jane, he blamed them both for the sorry situation. He wasn't as used to cases going pear-shaped as she was.

Very little can be solved through sex. If anything, with two people as messed up as they were, it did more harm than good. Neither of them stopped to think about that. They were both too busy trying to mask emotions they didn't want to be feeling.

There would be time for the aftermath later.

000

They never expected the relationship to be more than a one night stand.

Neither complained when it did though.

When she had to shoot to kill, he was there. When Red John reared his ugly head, she helped him through the worst of it.

It was, surprisingly enough, a mutually beneficial relationship.

000

Of course, all good things had to come to an end.

"Do it," he hissed and she could see the panic growing in the whites of his eyes. "Damn it, Lisbon, just shoot him."

Lisbon knew she couldn't make the shot. She couldn't kill Red John without killing Jane too.

It was never meant to end like this though.

She pulled the trigger.

end

_another day, another down  
another shot to hell  
another day, the numbers rise  
straight into the ground  
it's upside down, it's upside down.  
_- Upside Down, _Peter Bradley Adams_


	49. Listen to me

**A/N:** Belated birthday present for spyglass/forthecoast! Happy birthday, I guess. :p

Thank you to: Ebony10, Holz9364, Viktorija, PhoenixWytch, Famous4it, Indie Sol, anthropologist, Jisbon4ever, imadetheminmydreams, Koezh, IGottaFindYou and forthecoast for reviewing _Another Shot to Hell_ and to Divinia Serit for betaing.

Just one more of these to go. I honestly cannot believe it.

x tromana

* * *

**Title: **Fool's Gold  
**Author: **tromana  
**Rating: **T  
**Characters:** Jane/Lisbon  
**Summary: **A wise man once said that being a homicide detective can be the loneliest job in the world.  
**Disclaimer: **Not mine  
**Notes: **For spyglass/forthecoast. Beta'd by Divinia Serit. Based on the lyrics (below) and a line from The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson.

**Fool's Gold**

_Bruised and battered by your words  
__Dazed and shattered, now it hurts  
__Haven't I always loved you?  
_- _Almost Here _by Brian McFadden and Delta Goodrem

"And if you take away my revenge-"

"Your revenge? Your revenge?" she seethes, eyes flickering in anger. "It always comes down to that, doesn't it?"

"Of course it does. That's the only reason I work here, isn't it?"

He gestures expansively and briefly, she averts her gaze to take in the rest of the room. The bullpen, where the majority of the Serious Crimes Unit is stationed, looks much the same as it always does. Except, it's bare. Devoid of any other life. But that's hardly surprising. It is some ungodly hour and virtually everybody else is tucked snug in their beds.

They just have to be different.

Which is to be expected, really.

"Well if that's the case, you better leave now then."

"Why?"

"First of all, I have every intention of getting in the way of 'your revenge' and secondly?" She pauses for breath and for once in his life, he doesn't take the opportunity to interrupt. "If revenge is all you really care about, you would have left a long time ago."

She looks triumphant for about half a second. For that brief moment of time, she thinks, she knows, that she managed to get one over him. Then, he breaks out into a twisted sort of a grin. Her face falls and she waits for the blow. How could she still be naïve enough to believe that she had actually beaten him with words? They are, after all, his strongest suit.

"If that's how you feel…" he trails off. He doesn't even need to look to know this is hurting her far more than him. "I doubt I'll be seeing you again any time soon. And if you want a piece of advice? I'd get that wound checked out at a hospital. It looks pretty nasty."

At his word, she raises a hand to her head and her fingers graze the gauzing taped to her left temple. When she looks down at her fingertips, there's blood. She glances back up again and he's already gone.

A wise man once said that being a homicide detective can be the loneliest job in the world.

Well fuck that, she thinks.

It _is_ the loneliest job in the world and Teresa Lisbon knows the hard way. And there's not a damn thing she can do about it.

**Before…**

She crouches low. She can see Jane out of the corner of her eye and presumably, Red John standing opposite him. The grotesque mask and clichéd cloak have a lot to be sorry for regardless of identity. Jane has a kitchen knife clutched in his right hand. Well, he had always promised to gut Red John like the serial killer had his wife and child. Red John, however, holds a gun. It isn't his normal of choice, but equally it isn't completely unheard of.

Her heart lurches as she considers the kids he'd killed for emulating, worshipping him. And Wesley too, who carries emotional scars she doesn't even want to think about. They're just the tip of the iceberg, the most recent victims of the trail of destruction which Red John gleefully creates.

And if Patrick Jane isn't careful, he's going to be the next victim.

She strains as she tries to hear the heated words being exchanged between the two, all the while keeping a firm grip on her service weapon.

The situation is already spiraling out of control. It's bad enough that she doesn't have back up - the rest of the team is too busy making a bust on the other side of town - so she's stuck here on her own.

Jane spots her and stares pointedly. It's clear he never expected her to turn up, assumed she would remain faithfully with the rest of her team. Make sure that the other case was neatly dealt with while he dispatched Red John and disappeared into the night. Her turning up isn't part of his game plan and for once, he's not quite sure how to react. Lisbon freezes to the spot as Red John slowly turns to face her.

Milliseconds later, a bullet explodes from his gun.

It's a miracle that she managed to dodge it at all.

xxx

Jane dithers for half a second.

Lisbon, however, recovers faster and makes chase.

For once, she's too slow. She curses, punches a flimsy wall and winces as pain shoots through her knuckles. Jane approaches from behind and she flinches as his fingers brush against her shoulder. Lisbon knows he'll be pissed as hell. She distracted him; he didn't get to do what he intended simply because of her presence. That moment's indecision on his part had changed everything.

"Why did you come? Why did you disturb us?"

"We're meant to be on the same side, catching Red John," she replies with a scowl. "You're meant to be working with us, not against us. This-"

"That's bullshit and you know it," he interrupts and she glares. It has little affect though; he's long since grown used to her temper.

"Listen to me, Jane," she hisses and he stares pointedly at her. "You're heading towards disaster. If you're not careful…"

He silences her with his lips.

xxx

"You're hurt."

She makes a noncommittal noise and opens the trunk of her car. Quickly, she finds the first aid kit and begins to rummage through it.

"Are you going to help or what?"

"You have a first aid supplies with you?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

He shakes his head, the moment lost. Instead, she hands him an antiseptic wipe and waits patiently for him to clean her head wound. Lisbon doesn't know how bad it is yet and frankly, she doesn't want to know just yet. It's not a healthy relationship to have but she hates looking at her cuts and bruises. They remind her of just how fragile she really is and that there's never (usually) anybody to tend to her.

"It looks pretty bad, Teresa. You should probably…"

"It'll be fine. Right now, I just want to get this sorted and get home."

She grits her teeth as he tends to her but doesn't say a word until he's finished.

xxx

Jane drives her and she doesn't argue much. She knows a head injury is something to at least be wary about and that's the only thing that's really subduing her.

He's well-behaved at least and she pretends not to be bothered by his cautious gazes. Instead, she focuses on why on earth he hasn't erupted yet. She distracted him and Red John. Surely he should be pissed as hell, not acting as if she's about to fall apart at any second?

In fact, she's so suspicious that she goes against her every instinct and invites him in for coffee.

xxx

The coffee (or tea, as Jane probably would prefer) doesn't happen.

Instead, they collapse in her bedroom in a flurry of heated kisses and frustrated groans. Fingers don't act the way they should, clothes act as more of a hindrance than a help.

She's shaking, physically shaking as he pushes her firmly down onto the mattress. Lisbon cannot be sure whether or not it's because she's cold, in shock from what happened earlier or for another reason altogether.

She doesn't quite understand how - or why - they got here, either. Jane usually lost it after marginally missing Red John. He certainly didn't tend to show any interest in getting her into bed, regardless of how either of them have indicated they feel in the past. In any other circumstance, she would have been thrilled by the progress they're making instead of merely perplexed.

Eventually, Lisbon tries not to think about it and just to go with the flow.

It's not as easy as it sounds.

Jane buries his head into the crook of her neck and leaves a trail of kisses behind. 'Don't think so hard,' he whispers repeatedly and she snorts in response. He of all people should know that's easier said than done. Besides, it's completely hypocritical but she doesn't say that either.

The whole experience is clumsier, more stilted than she anticipates. When it's over, he wraps an arm possessively around her waist and apologizes profusely. She tries to silence him but he's having none of it.

Perhaps they should never have done this? Maybe they really did know each other _too _well?

xxx

"Let's get to the office. I think I've worked something out."

He moves suddenly and it takes her off-guard. Jane is already changed by the time she's hauled herself out of the bed. However, Lisbon knows she should have expected this. Once he gets the bit between his teeth, Jane is impossible to stop, impossible to slow down even.

She feels as though they're heading towards the impending fallout she anticipated hours ago.

Instead of saying anything she shrugs and changes. It's easier to just follow Jane and clean up the mess afterwards on a lot of occasions. He isn't exactly famed for understanding the word 'no'.

xxx

The journey to the CBI headquarters is tense and neither say a word. When they actually arrive, he proceeds to turn the bullpen upside down. Unsurprisingly, she feels a little in the way. Still, she remains mute. Eventually he'll get bored and talk to her. Let her know what he's actually thinking.

With Jane, it just takes time.

"You never answered me. Why _did_ you disturb us?" he asks, suddenly pausing in looking for whatever object he's after.

"Because I can't stand the thought of losing you to Red John," she replies simply and knows it's the honest to God truth.

"But you know that this is all I want," he answers back and she shrinks back at his tone. "And if you take away my revenge-"

**Present…**

"That's a nasty head wound - it'll need stitches," the doctor remarks with a derisive tut. "How did you pick it up?"

"A shooting. Last night."

"Why didn't you come straight here, then?"

She shrugs. What does it matter any more? Sometimes, she wonders why she chose such a dangerous career path. Why she actively decided to shut everyone out. Why she never bothered trying to actually live her life rather than going through the motions.

Just as she thinks she might be getting somewhere, it's ripped out from under her feet. She should stop putting her hope and trust in other people - it only ends in tears.

Besides, nothing ever really works to keep the loneliness at bay.

end


	50. Not now

**A/N: **Okay, so I wrote this all tonight. It was a break from writing my Big Bang fic (of DOM), as that was troubling me a little. Besides, once the prompt got in my head, it wouldn't leave me alone.

Thanks to: boutondor, Viktorija, IGottaFindYou, Ebony10, yaba, Famous4it, Jisbon4ever, anthropologist, hardly loquacious, forthecoast, phoenixmagic1 and Frogster for reviewing _Fool's Gold_.

I can't believe this is the last one in this collection. I will be starting my new collection very soon though. I would just like to take the time to thank everybody who has supported me throughout this collection. Everyone who has read this, favourited it, reviewed it, added it to their alerts. I wish I was more awake, so that I could go and list you all individually again. But frankly, I'm tired and besides, that'd be very dull for anyone reading this now.

Thank you *so* much and hopefully hear from you again soon.

x tromana

* * *

**Title: **Limited  
**Author: **tromana  
**Rating: **T  
**Characters: **Jane/Lisbon  
**Summary: **She's his anchor, his life raft. She keeps him floating when he would otherwise drown.  
**Disclaimer: **Not mine  
**Spoilers: **3x03 The Blood On His Hands  
**Notes: **50 Phrases prompt: Author's choice: Not now. Written for 2AM/muse_on_drugs in the mentalistprompt fic meme. Prompt: Prompt: "You can't protect me from your own death."

**Limited**

She wraps an arm around his waist, attempts to pull him away.

He remains stock-still.

Inflexible.

Stubborn.

Unyielding.

She huffs and sighs, rants and rages, but it has little to no effect. The only thing that Patrick Jane is aware of is the dead body in front of him.

And the smiley face, dripping with fresh red blood on the wall.

Red John has been here.

He's struck again. Taken a second woman that Jane has dared to care about.

It's a reminder. Reminding Jane that he's his own worst enemy. That he hasn't got the privilege, no, the right to be happy.

That all he deserves is living hell.

It's not as if there's another side waiting for him, anyway.

Kristina Frye stares impassively upwards. Her eyes, glassy and unseeing. She looks as if she could stare right through you. That's an impossibility now; she can't see a damn thing.

It would have been better for her if she hadn't made that breakthrough. Hadn't begun to recover.

Then, she'd still be alive, even if she didn't believe it.

The moment she showed even the tiniest hint of recovery and Red John had decided enough is enough. That he couldn't risk her actually getting better and telling Jane more than he needed to know.

When Jane had received the telephone call, stating that Kristina was on the mend, he had instantly told Lisbon that she needed more protection.

That she was now at serious risk of being killed.

Lisbon had taken him seriously. Hightower had not. She had stated that redeploying agents was a waste of manpower. That the mental institution where Kristina had been held had more than adequate protection - both for the safety of the patients and those on the outside.

She had explicitly stated that it would be virtually impossible for Red John to infiltrate the building and kill her.

Jane was right. Hightower was wrong.

He kneels and presses her eyelids shut.

Seeing her like this makes it feel like a hollow victory.

xxx

She allows her fingertips to brush gently across his shoulder.

He's sleeping on the couch, hasn't even got the energy to move up to his attic bedroom.

Lisbon is working late; the whole team has been. The rest have disappeared now. She needs them fresh, awake in the morning.

It is a Red John case, after all.

Red John is high priority. Always has been, always will be. Or, at least until he's caught.

Or dies.

Whichever comes first.

Jane mumbles under his breath, unwilling to be pulled from sleep.

He's exhausted and the only reason he's actually sleeping is because he desperately needs it.

If he didn't, then he wouldn't bother. Staying awake means more time to think, more time to work. More time to focus on catching Red John.

To hell with his general health and well-being.

He knows it hurts those around him. Knows they wish he looks after himself better. But what's the point? What has he got to live for?

Everything he cares about goes in the end. One way or another.

He can't let himself get attached. He just _can't_. There's only so many times you can be hurt and recover from it.

Only so many times something can be repaired.

If he's not careful, the next time his heart's broken, it could quite easily be the last.

He used to be careless, fickle with his love. Adored anyone and anything, gave his heart all too easily. It's what drove the wedge between himself and his father; caring about the marks that little bit too much.

Only after he left the carnival circuit did he learn to be cagier; learn to trust just one person: Angela. And by default, Charlotte, once she was born.

Losing them nearly destroyed him.

Kristina could have done the same, if he hadn't considered himself forewarned of her imminent demise.

But still, he hadn't really loved the supposed psychic. He was intrigued by her, found her interesting, sure. She made an interesting adversary. Someone fun to play against. He enjoyed her company.

But love?

No.

Maybe, given time. But that was cut crudely short.

Lisbon is still peering down at him.

Lisbon, on the other hand…

xxx

She drives him to her townhouse.

Promises of a couch even more comfortable than the one in the bullpen are enough to tear him away.

He doesn't believe her; why should he? Has she ever slept on that couch? Fallen into the soft, forgiving leather and allowed herself to relax?

No. Of course not.

That'd be too unprofessional.

But then again, is taking a colleague, co-worker, _friend_ home to your house exactly professional?

Well, it can be. Provided that there is absolutely no hint of romance between you.

Is there any hint of affection between them? Something that means they could potentially be more than friends?He considers it as she watches the road with eagle eyes.

Possibly.

She's protective of him; more so than of the others.

But she knows he's damaged goods. Knows he needs looking after more than the rest of the team put together.

Actively spends time with him.

To get answers for cases, yes. Because the others can only tolerate him in smaller doses. In attempt to keep him on a tighter leash.

And because she genuinely seems to enjoy his company.

He actually makes her smile. Which is more than can be said, for most.

Then there's moments when she just looks at him. When it isn't filled with concern, pity, fear, there's hope. Hope for what? The future? Happiness? A life together?

The way she touches him. With gentle affection, just like when she woke him up earlier.

A gentle caress that always lingers a little longer than it necessarily should.

Her trust.

It's hard earned, he knows that. He hasn't done much to earn it either, but inexplicably, she trusts him. With a woman like her, there has to be more behind it.

Other things too.

Too much to list.

But how does he feel about her?

Well, it's probably about the same really.

She's his anchor, his life raft. She keeps him floating when he would otherwise drown.

Just because he'd been unresponsive when they found Kristina's body, it didn't mean that he didn't appreciate, didn't _need_, her there.

Without her, he doesn't know what he'd do.

Really, he should learn to be less reliant on her.

Learn to live for himself again.

He drags his gaze away from her and lets his eyes join hers on the road.

xxx

She hands him a cup of tea, her hand shaking slightly.

Drops spill over the edge, scalding her skin.

Jane watches. She doesn't respond to the obvious burn. This is a woman who has been hardened to pain, especially physical.

Finds it easy to block it out now.

"I'm worried about you."

Her voice breaks as she speaks; the pain palpable.

Obviously, she's not quite as strong as he thinks she is.

She doesn't want to lose him to Red John.

He doesn't want to lose her either.

Jane stands. Grabs the lapels of her jacket. Pushes her against the wall.

Pauses.

She nods, ever so slightly.

Presses his lips against hers.

Lisbon doesn't push him away. Doesn't complain. Responds eagerly to his every touch.

This answers all of his questions that he had in her car. Yes, there is something between them. Yes, it was wrong of her to drag him back home. Yes, he does feel exactly the same about her as she does about him.

_Yes._

It also confirms something else: it's been all too long for both of them.

The cup of tea is long forgotten.

xxx

His fingers run through her dark, silky locks.

Hers tighten around his blond curls.

She falls to her bed.

He follows.

Tongues duel.

Teeth bite.

Hands migrate.

Clothes are discarded.

Mouth on mouth.

Skin on skin.

xxx

Jane leaves her in bed, alone.

Pours himself a glass of carbonated water.

He doesn't actually like the flavor, but it's routine more than anything else. Besides, it's cold and wet. That's the main thing. Brings him back down to reality. Reminds him of what's real and what's not.

He can't, shouldn't have, let this happened.

It's too soon. Too soon since Angela (though in reality, it's been years and people would say he should have moved on years ago.) Too soon since Kristina.

Just… too soon.

There's another reason why he tried pushing her away. Tried pretending for years that there was nothing between them, that she was little more than a colleague.

That very reason struck again recently. It's the same reason why Kristina Frye is now dead. Why he's trapped in this living nightmare and has been ever since his family were slaughtered.

Why he came to work for the CBI and met Teresa Lisbon at all.

If he cares about her, which he does, it means she'll be next in line.

Though he doesn't know how he knows, Red John always finds out these things. And because he was weak, because he sought solace in the one place he shouldn't, he's painted a whacking great target on Lisbon's back.

She already had one there anyway, being a cop.

But he's made it worse.

The water bubbles ferociously. Air escaping out into the atmosphere. Free once more, after goodness knows how long.

How he wishes to be free. To no longer be tied down to such real agony. To be innocent, care-free, full of life.

Like his daughter was, once.

Not that it did her much good.

That was his failure too. He should have known, should have protected her, instead of making things worse.

You're meant to learn from your mistakes. Jane realizes that he isn't. He's limited; close-minded. Falls into the same traps time and time again. Running around in circles and only being aware it when he sees the starting point once again.

Red John knows this all too well.

It makes it all the easier for him.

First, his Mom.

Then Angela and Charlotte.

Soon followed by Kristina.

Is Lisbon next?

Possibly.

Probably.

_Yes._

Unless he does something about it.

He stays up until the bubbles go flat.

Then, opens the door; leaves.

Shuts it firmly.

Locks it. Slips the key back through the post box. Not the safest place to put it, but a damn sight better than putting underneath a plant pot, at any rate.

Heads to his car. Opens the door, sits in the drivers' seat. Hands resting on the wheel. He places his head on top of his hands and stays still for half a second.

Usually he'd head back to work. The CBI headquarters. The couch or his attic room.

Not today.

Not going back there again. Not now, not ever.

Earlier, he was thinking that he needed to learn to live independently again. There's not time like the present.

Besides, if Lisbon has half a chance of survival, he needs to leave. Cut all ties. Never return. Let Red John seek him out, provide the serial killer with the cat and mouse game he so obviously craves.

Hope it's enough of a distraction to stop him from going after Lisbon.

He can only hope it isn't too late.

That he won't just kill her anyway.

If it works, if she continues to live, to breathe, to work, to love, then his living without her is a small sacrifice to make.

Jane places his key in the ignition. Turns it.

Drives.

The end.


End file.
